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THE 


ENGLISH  AND  SCOTTISH 

POPULAR  BALLADS 

EDITED  BY 

FRANCIS  JAMES  CHILD 


PART  I 


BOSTON  . 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK:  11  EAST  SEVENTEENTH  STREET 

£Dl)  t  ftfocrstoe  prr  00,  Cambridge 

London  :  Henry  Stevens,  4  Trafalgar  Square 


<©ne  Cbousanb  ‘Copies  ^rintetJ. 


Copyright,  1882,  by  F.  J.  Child. 


All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge: 
Printed  by  H.  0.  Houghton  and  Company. 


To 


FREDERICK  J.  EURNIVALL ,  ESQ., 

OF  LONDON. 

My  Dear  Furnivall  : 

Without  the  Percy  MS.  no  one  would  pretend  to  make  a  collectio7i  of  the 
English  Ballads ,  and  but  for  you  that  manuscript  woidd  still,  I  think,  be  beyond 
reach  of  man,  yet  exposed  to  destructive  chances.  Through  your  exertions  and 
personal  sacrifices,  directly ,  the  famous  and  precious  folio  has  been  printed;  and, 
indirectly ,  in  consequence  of  the  same,  it  has  been  transferred  to  a  place  where 
it  is  safe,  and  open  to  inspection.  This  is  only  one  of  a  hundred  reasons  which 
I  have  for  asking  you  to  accept  the  dedication  of  this  book  from 

Your  grateful  friend  and  felloiv-student, 

F.  J.  CHILD. 

Cambridge ,  Mass.,  December  i,  1882. 


• 

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• 

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* 

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• 

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ADVERTISEMENT 


It  was  my  wish  not  to  begin  to  print  The  Eng¬ 
lish  and  Scottish  Popular  Ballads  until  this  unre¬ 
stricted  title  should  be  justified  by  my  having  at 
command  every  valuable  copy  of  every  known  bal¬ 
lad.  A  continuous  effort  to  accomplish  this  object 
has  been  making  for  some  nine  or  ten  years,  and 
many  have  joined  in  it.  By  correspondence,  and 
by  an  extensive  diffusion  of  printed  circulars,  I  have 
tried  to  stimulate  collection  from  tradition  in  Scot¬ 
land,  Canada,  and  the  United  States,  and  no  becom¬ 
ing  means  has  been  left  unemployed  to  obtain  pos¬ 
session  of  unsunned  treasures  locked  up  in  writing. 
The  gathering  from  tradition  has  been,  as  ought 
perhaps  to  haye  been  foreseen  at  this  late  day, 
meagre,  and  generally  of  indifferent  quality.  Ma¬ 
terials  in  the  hands  of  former  editors  have,  in  some 
cases,  been  lost  beyond  recovery,  and  very  probably 
have  lighted  fires,  like  that  large  cantle  of  the  Percy 
manuscript,  maxime  dejiendns  !  Access  to  several 
manuscript  collections  has  not  yet  been  secured. 
But  what  is  still  lacking  is  believed  to  bear  no  great 
pi’oportion  to  what  is  in  hand,  and  may  soon  come 
in,  besides :  meanwhile,  the  uncertainties  of  the 
world  forbid  a  longer  delay  to  publish  so  much  as 
has  been  got  together. 

Of  hitherto  unused  materials,  much  the  most  im¬ 
portant  is  a  large  collection  of  ballads  made  by 
Motherwell.  For  leave  to  take  a  copy  of  this  I  am 
deeply  indebted  to  the  present  possessor,  Mr  Mal¬ 
colm  Colquhoun  Thomson,  of  Glasgow,  who  even 
allowed  the  manuscript  to  be  sent  to  London,  and 
■  to  be  retained  several  months,  for  my  accommoda¬ 
tion.  Mr  J.  Wylie  Guild,  of  Glasgow,  also  per¬ 
mitted  the  use  of  a  note-book  of  Motherwell’s  which 
supplements  the  great  manuscript,  and  this  my  un¬ 
wearied  friend,  Mr  James  Barclay  Murdoch,  to 
whose  solicitation  I  owe  both,  himself  transcribed 
with  the  most  scrupulous  accuracy.  No  other  good 
office,  asked  or  unasked,  has  Mr.  Murdoch  spared. 

Next  in  extent  to  the  Motherwell  collections 
come  those  of  the  late  Mr  Kinloch.  These  he 


freely  placed  at  my  disposal,  and  Mr  William  Mac- 
math,  of  Edinburgh,  made  during  Mr  Kinloch’s  life 
an  exquisite  copy  of  the  larger  part  of  them,  en¬ 
riched  with  notes  from  Mr  Kinloch’s  papers,  and 
sent  it  to  me  across  the  water.  After  Mr  Kinloch’s 
death  his  collections  were  acquired  by  Harvard  Col¬ 
lege  Library,  still  through  the  agency  of  Mr  Mac- 
math,  who  has  from  the  beginning  rendered  a  highly 
valued  assistance,  not  less  by  his  suggestions  and 
communications  than  by  his  zealous  mediation. 

No  Scottish  ballads  are  superior  in  kind  to  those 
recited  in  the  last  century  by  Mrs  Brown,  of  Falk¬ 
land.  Of  these  there  are,  or  were,  three  sets.  One 
formerly  owned  by  Robert  Jamieson,  the  fullest 
of  the  three,  was  lent  me,  to  keep  as  long  as  I  re¬ 
quired,  by  my  honored  friend  the  late  Mr  David 
Laing,  who  also  secured  for  me  copies  of  several 
ballads  of  Mrs  Brown  which  are  found  in  an  Ab¬ 
botsford  manuscript,  and  gave  me  a  transcript  of 
the  Glenriddell  manuscript.  The  two  others  were 
written  down  for  William  Tytler  and  Alexander 
Fraser  Tytler  respectively,  the  former  of  these  con¬ 
sisting  of  a  portion  of  the  Jamieson  texts  revised. 
These  having  for  some  time  been  lost  sight  of,  Miss 
Mary  Fraser  Tytler,  with  a  graciousness  which  I 
have  reason  to  believe  hereditary  in  the  name,  made 
search  for  them,  recovered  the  one  which  had  been 
obtained  by  Lord  Woodhouselee,  and  copied  it  for 
me  with  her  own  hand.  The  same  lady  furnished 
me  with  another  collection  which  had  been  made 
by  a  member  of  the  family. 

For  later  transcriptions  from  Scottish  tradition  I 
am  indebted  to  Mr  J.  F.  Campbell  of  Islay,  whose 
edition  and  rendering  of  the  racy  West  Highland 
Tales  is  marked  by  the  rarest  appreciation  of  the 
popular  genius ;  to  Mrs  A.  F.  Murison,  formerly 
of  Old  Deer,  who  undertook  a  quest  for  ballads  in 
her  native  place  on  my  behalf ;  to  Mr  Alexander 
Laing,  of  Newburgh-upon-Tay ;  to  Mr  James  Gibb, 
of  Joppa,  who  has  given  me  a  full  score  ;  to  Mr 
David  Louden,  of  Morham,  Haddington ;  to  the 


Vi 


ADVERTISEMENT 


late  Dr  John  Hill  Burton  and  Miss  Ella  Burton ; 
to  Dr  Thomas  Davidson. 

The  late  Mr  Robert  White,  of  Newcastle-upon- 
Tyne,  allowed  me  to  look  through  his  collections  in 
1873,  and  subsequently  made  me  a  copy  of  such 
things  as  I  needed,  and  his  ready  kindness  has  been 
continued  by  Mrs  Andrews,  his  sister,  and  by  Miss 
Andrews,  his  niece,  Avho  has  taken  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  on  my  account. 

In  the  south  of  the  mother-island  my  reliance 
has,  of  necessity,  been  chiefly  upon  libraries.  The 
British  Museum  possesses,  besides  eai’ly  copies  of 
some  of  the  older  ballads,  the  Percy  MS.,  Herd’s 
MSS  and  Buchan’s,  and  the  Roxburgh  broadsides. 
The  library  of  the  University  of  Cambridge  affords 
one  or  two  things  of  first-rate  importance,  and  for 
these  I  am  beholden  to  the  accomplished  librarian, 
Mr  Henry  Bradshaw,  and  to  Professor  Skeat.  I 
have  also  to  thank  the  Rev.  F.  Gunton,  Dean,  and 
the  other  authorities  of  Magdalene  College,  Cam¬ 
bridge,  for  permitting  collations  of  Pepys  ballads, 
most  obligingly  made  for  me  by  Mr  Arthur  S.  B. 
Miller.  Many  things  were  required  from  the  Bod¬ 
leian  library,  and  these  were  looked  out  for  me, 
and  scrupulously  copied  or  collated,  by  Mr  George 
Parker. 

Texts  of  traditional  ballads  have  been  communi¬ 
cated  to  me  in  America  by  Mr  W.  W.  Newell,  of 
New  York,  who  is  soon  to  give  us  an  interesting 
collection  of  Children’s  Games  traditional  in  Amer¬ 
ica  ;  by  Dr  Huntington,  Bishop  of  Central  New 
York  ;  Mr  G.  C.  Mahon,  of  Ann  Arbor,  Michigan; 
Miss  Margaret  Reburn,  of  New  Albion,  Iowa;  Miss 
Perine,  of  Baltimore ;  Mrs  Augustus  Lowell,  Mrs 
L.  F.  Wesselhoeft,  Mrs  Edward  Atkinson,  of  Bos¬ 
ton  ;  Mrs  Cushing,  of  Cambridge  ;  Miss  Ellen  Mars- 
ton,  of  New  Bedford ;  Mrs  Moncrieff,  of  London, 
Ontario. 

Acknowledgments  not  well  despatched  in  a  phrase 
are  due  to  many  others  who  have  promoted  my  ob¬ 
jects  :  to  Mr  Furnivall,  for  doing  for  me  everything 
which  I  could  have  done  for  myself  had  I  lived  in 
England ;  to  that  master  of  old  songs  and  music, 
Mr  William  Chappell,  very  specially ;  to  Mr  J. 
Payne  Collier  ;  Mr  Norval  Clyne,  of  Aberdeen  ;  Mr 
Alexander  Young,  of  Glasgow ;  Mr  Arthur  Lauren- 


son,  of  Lerwick,  Shetland ;  Mr  J.  Burrell  Curtis,  of 
Edinburgh ;  Dr  Vigfusson,  of  Oxford ;  Professor 
Edward  Arber,  of  Birmingham ;  the  Rev.  J.  Per- 
cival,  Mr  Francis  Fry,  Mr  J.  F.  Nicholls,  of  Bris¬ 
tol  ;  Professor  George  Stephens,  of  Copenhagen ; 
Mr  R.  Bergstrom,  of  the  Royal  Library,  Stock¬ 
holm  ;  Mr  W.  R.  S.  Ralston,  Mr  William  Henry 
Husk,  Miss  Lucy  Toulmin  Smith,  Mr  A.  F.  Muri- 
son,  of  London  ;  Professor  Sophocles  ;  Mr  W.  G. 
Medlicott,  of  Longmeadow ;  to  Mr  M.  Heilprin,  of 
New  York,  Mine  de  Maltchyce,  of  Boston,  and 
Rabbi  Dr  Cohn,  for  indispensable  translations  from 
Polish  and  Hungarian ;  to  Mr  James  Russell  Low¬ 
ell,  Minister  of  the  United  States  at  London ;  to 
Professor  Charles  Eliot  Norton,  for  such  “  pains  and 
benefits”  as  I  could  ask  only  of  a  life-long  friend. 

In  the  editing  of  these  ballads  I  have  closely  fol¬ 
lowed  the  plan  of  Grundtvig’s  Old  Popular  Ballads 
of  Denmark,  a  work  which  will  he  prized  highest 
by  those  who  have  used  it  most,  and  which  leaves 
nothing  to  be  desired  but  its  completion.  The  author 
is  as  much  at  home  in  English  as  in  Danish  tra¬ 
dition,  and  whenever  he  takes  up  a  ballad  which  is 
common  to  both  nations  nothing  remains  to  be  done 
but  to  supply  what  has  come  to  light  since  the  time 
of  his  writing.  But  besides  the  assistance  which  I 
have  derived  from  his  book,  I  have  enjoyed  the 
advantage  of  Professor  Grundtvig’s  criticism  and 
advice,  and  have  received  from  him  unprinted  Dan¬ 
ish  texts,  and  other  aid  in  many  ways. 

Such  further  explanations  as  to  the  plan  and  con¬ 
duct  of  the  work  as  may  be  desirable  can  be  more 
conveniently  given  by  and  by.  I  may  say  here  that 
textual  points  which  may  seem  to  be  neglected  will 
be  considered  in  an  intended  Glossary,  with  which 
will  be  given  a  full  account  of  Sources,  and  such 
indexes  of  Titles  and  Matters  as  will  make  it  easy 
to  find  everything  that  the  book  may  contain. 

With  renewed  thanks  to  all  helpers,  and  helpers’ 
helpers,  I  would  invoke  the  largest  cooperation  for 
the  correction  of  errors  and  the  supplying  of  de¬ 
ficiencies.  To  forestall  a  misunderstanding  which 
has  often  occurred,  I  beg  to  say  that  every  tra¬ 
ditional  version  of  a  popular  ballad  is  desired,  no 
matter  how'  many  texts  of  the  same  may  have  been 
printed  already. 


F.  J.  CHILD. 


CONTENTS 


Page 

1.  Riddles  Wisely  Expounded .  1 

2.  The  Elfin  Knight . 6 

3.  The  Fause  Knight  upon  the  Road .  20 

4.  Lady  Isabel  and  the  Elf-Knight . 22 

5.  Gil  Brenton .  62 

6.  Willie’s  Lady . 81 

7.  Earl  Brand .  88 

8.  Erlinton . 106 

9.  The  Fair  Flower  of  Northumberland . Ill 

10.  The  Twa  Sisters . 118 

11.  The  Cruel  Brother . 141 

12.  Lord  Randal . 151 

13.  Edward . 167 

14.  Babylon  ;  or,  The  Bonnie  Banks  o  Fordie . .  .  .  .170 

15.  Leesome  Brand . 177 

16.  Sheath  and  Knife . 185 

17.  Hind  Horn . * . 187 

18.  Sir  Lionel . 208 

19.  King  Orfeo . 215 

20.  The  Cruel  Mother . 218 

21.  The  Maid  and  the  Palmer  (The  Samaritan  Woman)  .  .  .  ^  .  .  .  228 

22.  St.  Stephen  and  Herod . 233 

23.  Judas . 242 

24.  Bonnie  Annie . 244 

25.  Willie’s  Lyke-Wake . 247 

26.  The  Three  Ravens . 253 

'  « 

27.  The  Whummll  Bore . 255 

28.  Burd  Ellen  and  Young  Tamlane . 256 


1 


RIDDLES  WISELY  EXPOUNDED 


A.  a.  ‘A  Noble  Riddle  Wisely  Expounded ;  or,  The 
Maid’s  Answer  to  the  Knight’s  Three  Questions,’ 
4to,  Rawlinson,  5G6,  fol.  193,  Bodleian  Library; 
Wood,  E.  25,  fol.  15,  Bod.  Lib.  b.  Pepys,  hi,  19, 
No  17,  Magdalen  College,  Cambridge,  c.  Douce, 
ii,  fol.  168  b,  Bod.  Lib.  d.  *  A  Riddle  Wittily  Ex¬ 
pounded,’  Pills  to  Purge  Melancholy,  iv,  129,  ed. 
1719.  “  ii,  129,  ed.  1712.” 


B.  ‘  The  Three  Sisters.’  Some  Ancient  Christmas 
Carols  .  .  .  together  with  two  Ancient  Ballads,  etc. 
By  Davies  Gilbert,  2d  ed.,  p.  65. 

C.  ‘  The  Unco  Knicht’s  Wowing,’  Motherwell’s  MS., 
p.  647. 

D.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  142. 


The  four  copies  of  A  differ  but  very  slight¬ 
ly  :  a,  b,  c  are  broadsides,  and  d  is  evidently 
of  that  derivation,  a  and  b  are  of  the  17th 
century.  There  is  another  broadside  in  the 
Euing  collection,  formerly  Halliwell’s,  No 
253.  The  version  in  The  Borderer’s  Table 
Book,  VII,  83,  was  compounded  by  Dixon 
from  others  previously  printed. 

Riddles,  as  is  well  known,  play  an  impor¬ 
tant  part  in  popular  story,  and  that  from  very 
remote  times.  No  one  needs  to  be  reminded 
of  Samson,  CEdipus,  Apollonius  of  Tyre.  Rid¬ 
dle-tales,  which,  if  not  so  old  as  the  oldest  of 
these,  may  be  carried  in  all  likelihood  some 
centuries  beyond  our  era,  still  live  in  Asiatic 
and  European  tradition,  and  have  their  repre¬ 
sentatives  in  popular  ballads.  The  largest 
class  of  these  tales  is  that  in  which  one  party 
has  to  guess  another’s  riddles,  or  two  rivals 
compete  in  giving  or  guessing,  under  penalty 
in  either  instance  of  forfeiting  life  or  some 
other  heavy  wager ;  an  example  of  which  is 
the  English  ballad,  modern  in  form,  of  ‘  King 
John  and  the  Abbot  of  Canterbury.’  In  a 
second  class,  a  suitor  can  win  a  lady’s  hand 
only  by  guessing  riddles,  as  in  our  ‘  Captain 
Wedderburn’s  Courtship’  and  ‘Proud  Lady 
Margaret.’  There  is  sometimes  a  penalty  of 
loss  of  life  for  the  unsuccessful,  but  not  in 
these  ballads.  Thirdly,  there  is  the  tale  (per¬ 
haps  an  offshoot  of  an  early  form  of  the  first) 

l 


of  The  Clever  Lass,  who  wins  a  husband,  and 
sometimes  a  crown,  by  guessing  riddles,  solv¬ 
ing  difficult  but  practicable  problems,  or  match¬ 
ing  and  evading  impossibilities ;  and  of  this 
class  versions  A  and  B  of  the  present  ballad 
and  A-H  of  the  following  are  specimens. 

Ballads  like  our  1,  A,  B,  2,  A-H,  are  very 
common  in  German.  Of  the  former  variety 
are  the  following : 

A.  ‘  Rlithsellied,’  Biisching,  Wochentliche 
Nachrichten,  I,  65,  from  the  neighborhood  of 
Stuttgart.  The  same,  Erlach,  hi,  37  ;  Wun- 
derhorn,  IV,  139  ;  Liederhort,  p.  338,  No  153  ; 
Erk  u.  Irmer,  H.  5,  p.  32,  No  29  ;  Mittler,  No 
1307  (omits  the  last  stanza)  ;  Zuccalmaglio, 
n,  574,  No  317  [with  change  in  st.'ll].  A 
knight  meets  a  maid  on  the  road,  dismounts, 
and  says,  “  I  will  ask  you  a  riddle ;  if  you  guess 
it,  you  shall  be  my  wife.”  She  answers,  “  Your 
riddle  shall  soon  be  guessed ;  I  will  do  my  best 
to  be  your  wife  ;  ”  guesses  eight  pairs  of  rid¬ 
dles,  is  taken  up  behind  him,  and  they  ride 
off.  B.  ‘  Rathsel  um  Riithsel,’  Wunderhorn, 
ii,  407  [429,  418]  =  Erlach,  I,  439.  Zuccal¬ 
maglio,  H,  572,  No  316,  rearranges,  but  adds 
nothing.  Mittler,  No  1306,  inserts  three 
stanzas  (7,  9,  10).  This  version  begins  : 
“  Maid,  I  will  give  you  some  riddles,  and  if 
you  guess  them  will  marry  you.”  There  are 
seven  pairs,  and,  these  guessed,  the  man  says, 
“I  can’t  give  you  riddles:  let’s  marry;”  to 


9 


1.  RIDDLES  WISELY  EXPOUNDED 


which  she  givfes  no  coy  assent :  but  this  con¬ 
clusion  is  said  not  to  be  genuine  (Liederhort, 
p.  341,  note).  C.  ‘  Rathsellied,’  Erk,  Neue 
Sammlung,  Heft  3,  p.  64,  No  57,  and  Lieder¬ 
hort,  340,  No  153a,  two  Brandenburg  ver¬ 
sions,  nearly  agreeing,  one  with  six,  the  other 
with  five,  pairs  of  riddles.  A  proper  conclu¬ 
sion  not  having  been  obtained,  the  former  was 
•  completed  by  the  two  last  stanzas  of  B,  which 
are  suspicious.  C  begins  like  B.  D.  ‘  Rath- 
selfragen,’  Peter,  Volksthiimliches  aus  Oster- 
reichisch-Schlesien,  i,  272,  No  83.  A  knight 
rides  by  where  two  maids  are  sitting,  one  of 
whom  salutes  him,  the  other  not.  He  says  to 
the  former,  “  I  will  put  you  three  questions, 
and  if  you  can  answer  them  will  marry  you.” 
He  asks  three,  then  six  more,  then  three,  and 
then  two,  and,  all  being  answered,  bids  her, 
since  she  is  so  witty,  build  a  house  on  a 
needle’s  point,  and  put  in  as  many  windows 
as  there  are  stars  in  the  sky  ;  which  she  par¬ 
ries  with,  “  When  all  streams  flow  together, 
and  all  trees  shall  fruit,  and  all  thorns  bear 
roses,  then  come  for  your  answer.”  E.  ‘  Ratli- 
sellied,’  Tschischka  u.  Schottky,  Oesterreich- 
ische  Volkslieder,  2d  ed.,  p.  28,  begins  like  B, 
C,  has  only  three  pairs  of  riddles,  and  ends  with 
the  same  task  of  building  a  house  on  a  needle’s 
point.  F.  ‘  Rathsellied, ’  Hocker,  Volkslieder 
von  der  Mosel,  in  Wolf’s  Zeits.  fur  deutsche 
Myth.,  I,  251,  from  Trier,  begins  with  the 
usual  promise,  has  five  pairs  of  riddles,  and 
no  conclusion.  G.  ‘  Rathsel,’  Ditfurth,  Frank- 
ische  V.  L.,  n,  110,  No  146,  has  the  same  be¬ 
ginning,  six  pairs  of  riddles,  and  no  conclusion. 

*  D  4,  What  is  green  as  clover  ?  What  is  white  as  milk  ? 
comes  near  to  English  A  15,  C  13,  D  5,  What  is  greener 
than  grass?  C  11,  D  2,  What  is  whiter  than  milk?  We 
have  again,  What  is  greener  than  grass  ?  in  ‘Capt.  Wedder- 
burn’s  Courtship,’  A  12  ;  What  is  whiter  than  snow  ?  What 
is  greener  than  clover  ?  in  ‘  Rathselfragen,’  Firmenich,  Ger- 
maniens  Ydlkerstimmen,  hi,  634  ;  in  *  Kranzsingen,’  Erk’s 
Liederhort,  p.  342,  3;  ‘  Traugemundslied,’  11;  ‘  Ein  Spiel 
von  den  Freiheit,’  Fastnachtspiele  aus  dem  15n  Jalirhun- 
dert,  ii,  555;  Altdeutsche  Walder,  iii,  138.  So,  What  is 
whiter  than  a  swan  ?  in  many  of  the  versions  of  Svend 
Vonved,  Grundtvig,  iii,  786  ;  iv,  742-3-7-8 ;  Afzelius,  ii, 
139,  etc.;  and  Sin  is  blacker  than  a  sloe,  or  coal  (cf.  C  15, 
Sin  is  heavier  nor  the  lead),  Grundtvig,  i,  240,247;  iv, 
748,  9  ;  Afzelius,  n,  139.  The  road  without  dust  and 
the  tree  without  leaves  are  in  ‘  Ein  Spiel  von  den  Freiheit/ 
p.  557  ;  and  in  Meier,  Deutsche  Kinderreime,  p.  84,  no  doubt 


Some  of  the  riddles  occur  in  nearly  all  the 
versions,  some  in  only  one  or  two,  and  there 
is  now  and  then  a  variation  also  in  the  an¬ 
swers.  Those  which  are  most  frequent  are  : 

Which  is  the  maid  without  a  tress  ?  A-D,  G. 

And  which  is  the  tower  without  a  crest  ?  A-D,  F,  G. 

(Maid-child  in  the  cradle  ;  tower  of  Babel.) 
Which  is  the  water  without  any  sand  ?  A,  B,  C,  F,  G. 
And  which  is  the  king  without  any  land  ?  A,  B,  C, 
F,  G. 

(Water  in  the  eyes  ;  king  in  cards.) 

Where  is  no  dust  in  all  the  road  ?  A-G. 

Where  is  no  leaf  in  all  the  wood  ?  A-G. 

(The  milky  way,  or  a  river  ;  a  fir-wood.) 

Which  is  the  fire  that  never  burnt  ?  A,  C-G. 

And  which  is  the  sword  without  a  point  ?  C-G. 

(A  painted  fire  ;  a  broken  sword.) 

Which  is  the  house  without  a  mouse  ?  C-G. 

Which  is  the  beggar  without  a  louse  ?  C-G. 

(A  snail’s  house  ;  a  painted  beggar.)* 

A  ballad  translated  in  Ralston’s  Songs  of 
the  Russian  People,  p.  356,  from  Buslaef’s 
Historical  Sketches  of  National  Literature  and 
Art,  i,  31,  resembles  very  closely  German  A. 
A  merchant’s  son  drives  by  a  garden  where  a 
girl  is  gathering  flowers.  He  salutes  her ;  she 
returns  her  thanks.  Then  the  ballad  pro¬ 
ceeds  : 

‘  Shall  I  ask  thee  riddles,  beauteous  maiden  ? 

Six  wise  riddles  shall  I  ask  thee  ?  ’ 

‘  Ask  them,  ask  them,  merchant’s  son, 

Prithee  ask  the  six  wise  riddles.’ 

‘Well  then,  maiden,  what  is  higher  than  the  for¬ 
est  ? 

Also,  what  is  brighter  than  the  light  ? 

a  fragment  of  a  ballad,  as  also  the  verses  in  Firmenich. 
The  question  in  German,  A  4,  Welches  ist  das  trefflichste 
Holz  ?  (die  Rebe)  is  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  prose  Salomon  and 
Saturn:  Kemble,  Sal.  and  Sat.  188,  No  40;  204;  see  also 
287,  10.  Riddle  verses  with  little  or  no  story  (sometimes 
fragments  of  ballads  like  D)  are  frequent.  The  Trauge¬ 
mundslied,  Uhland,  i,  3,  and  the  Spiel  von  den  Freiheit, 
Fastnachtspiele,  n,  553,  have  only  as  much  story  as  will 
serve  as  an  excuse  for  long  strings  of  riddles.  Shorter  pieces 
of  the  kind  are  (Italian)  Kaden,  Italiens  Wunderhern,  p.  14; 
(Servian)  ‘The  Maid  and  the  Fish,’  Yuk,  i,  196,  No  285, 
Talvj,  ii,  176,  Goetze,  Serbische  V.  L.,  p.  75,  Bowring,  Ser¬ 
vian  Popular  Poetry,  p.  184;  (Polish)  Wojcicki,  i,  203; 
(Wendish)  Haupt  and  Schmaler,  i,  177,  No  150,  n,  69,  No 
74;  (Russian)  Wenzig,  Bibliothek  Slav.  Poesie,  p.  174;  (Es- 
thonian)  Neus,  Ehstnische  V.  L.,  390  ff,  and  Fosterlandskt 
Album,  i,  13,  Prior,  Ancient  Danish  Ballads,  n,  341. 


1.  RIDDLES  WISELY  EXPOUNDED 


3 


Also,  maiden,  what  is  thicker  than  the  forest  ? 

Also,  maiden,  what  is  there  that ’s  rootless  ? 

Also,  maiden,  what  is  never  silent  ? 

Also,  what  is  there  past  finding  out  ?  ’ 

*  I  will  answer,  merchant’s  son,  will  answer, 

All  the  six  wise  riddles  will  I  answer. 

Higher  than  the  forest  is  the  moon  ; 

Brighter  than  the  light  the  ruddy  sun  ; 

Thicker  than  the  forest  are  the  stars  ; 

Rootless  is,  O  merchant’s  son,  a  stone  ; 

Never  silent,  merchant’s  son,  the  sea  ; 

And  God’s  will  is  past  all  finding  out.’ 

‘  Thou  hast  guessed,  O  maiden  fair,  guessed  rightly, 
All  the  six  wise  riddles  hast  thou  answered  ; 
Therefore  now  to  me  shalt  thou  be  wedded, 
Therefore,  maiden,  shalt  thou  he  the  merchant’s 
wife.’  * 

Among  the  Gaels,  both  Scotch  and  Irish,  a 
ballad  of  the  same  description  is  extremely 
well  known.  Apparently  only  the  questions 
are  preserved  in  verse,  and  the  connection 
with  the  story  made  by  a  prose  comment.  Of 
these  questions  there  is  an  Irish  form,  dated 
1738,  which  purports  to  be  copied  from  a 
manuscript  of  the  twelfth  century.  Fionn 
would  marry  no  lady  whom  he  could  pose. 
Graidhne,  “  daughter  of  the  king  of  the 
fifth  of  Ullin,”  answered  everything  he  asked, 
and  became  his  wife.  Altogether  there  are 


thirty-two  questions  in  the  several  versions. 
Among  them  are:  What  is  blacker  than 
the  raven  ?  (There  is  death.)  What  is 
whiter  than  the  snow  ?  (There  is  the  truth.) 
‘  Fionn’s  Questions,’  Campbell’s  Popular  Tales 
of  the  West  Highlands,  in,  36  ;  ‘  Fionn’s  Con¬ 
versation  with  Ailblie,’  Heroic  Gaelic  Ballads, 
by  the  same,  pp.  150,  151. 

The  familiar  ballad-knight  of  A,  B  is  con¬ 
verted  in  C  into  an  “  unco  knicht,”  who  is  the 
devil,  a  departure  from  the  proper  story  which 
is  found  also  in  2  J.  The  conclusion  of  C, 

As  soon  as  she  the  fiend  did  name, 

He  flew  awa  in  a  blazing  flame, 

reminds  us  of  the  behavior  of  trolls  and  nixes 
under  like  circumstances,  but  here  the  naming 
amounts  to  a  detection  of  the  Unco  Knicht’s 
quiddity,  acts  as  an  exorcism,  and  simply 
obliges  the  fiend  to  go  off  in  his  real  charac¬ 
ter.  D  belongs-  with  C :  it  was  given  by  the 
reciter  as  a  colloquy  between  the  devil  and  a 
maiden. 

The  earlier  affinities  of  this  ballad  can  be 
better  shown  in  connection  with  No  2. 

Translated,  after  B  and  A,  in  Grundtvig’s 
Engelske  og  skotske  Folkeviser,  p.  181 :  Her¬ 
der,  Yolkslieder,  I,  95,  after  A  d. 


A 

a.  Broadside  in  the  Rawlinson  collection,  4to,  566,  fol. 
193,  Wood,  E.  25,  fol.  15.  b.  Pepys,  hi,  19,  No  17.  c. 
Douce,  ii,  fol.  168  b.  d.  Pills  to  Purge  Melancholy,  iv, 
130,  ed.  1719. 

1  There  was  a  lady  of  the  North  Country, 

Lay  the  bent  to  the  bonny  broom 
And  she  had  lovely  daughters  three. 

Fa  la  la  la,  fa  la  la  la  ra  re 

2  There  was  a  knight  of  noble  worth 
Which  also  lived  in  the  North. 

3  The  knight,  of  courage  stout  and  brave, 

A  wife  he  did  desire  to  have. 

*  ‘  Capt  Wedderburn’s  Courtship,’  12:  What’s  higher 
than  the  tree  ?  (heaven).  Wojcicki,  Piesni,  i,  203,  1.  11,  206, 
1. 3 ;  What  grows  without  a  root  ?  (a  stone). 


4  He  knocked  at  the  ladie’s  gate 
One  evening  when  it  was  late. 

5  The  eldest  sister  let  him  in, 

And  pin’d  the  door  with  a  silver  pin. 

6  The  second  sister  she  made  his  bed, 

And  laid  soft  pillows  under  his  head. 

7  The  youngest  daughter  that  same  night, 
She  went  to  bed  to  this  young  knight. 

8  And  in  the  morning,  when  it  was  day, 
These  words  unto  him  she  did  say  : 

/ 

9  1  Now  you  have  had  your  will,’  quoth  she, 
‘  I  pray,  sir  knight,  will  you  marry  me  ?  ’ 

10  The  young  brave  knight  to  her  replyed, 

‘  Thy  suit,  fair  maid,  shall  not  be  deny’d. 


4 


1.  RIDDLES  WISELY  EXPOUNDED 


11  ‘  If  thou  canst  answer  me  questions  three, 
This  very  day  will  I  marry  thee.’ 

12  ‘  Kind  sir,  in  love,  O  then,’  quoth  she, 

‘  Tell  me  what  your  [three]  questions  he.’ 

13  ‘  0  what  is  longer  than  the  way, 

Or  what  is  deeper  than  the  sea  ? 

14  ‘  Or  what  is  louder  than  the  horn, 

Or  what  is  sharper  than  a  thorn  ? 

15  ‘  Or  what  is  greener  than  the  grass, 

Or  what  is  worse  then  a  woman  was  ?  ’ 

16  ‘  0  love  is  longer  than  the  way, 

And  hell  is  deeper  than  the  sea. 

17  ‘And  thunder  is  louder  than  the  horn, 
And  hunger  is  sharper  than  a  thorn. 


18  ‘  And  poyson  is  greener  than  the  grass, 
And  the  Devil  is  worse  than  woman  was.’ 

19  When  she  these  questions  answered  had, 
The  knight  became  exceeding  glad. 

20  And  having  [truly]  try’d  her  wit, 

He  much  commended  her  for  it. 

21  And  after,  as  it  is  verifi’d, 

He  made  of  her  his  lovely  bride. 

22  So  now,  fair  maidens  all,  adieu, 

This  song  I  dedicate  to  you. 

23  I  wish  that  you  may  constant  prove 
Vnto  the  man  that  you  do  love. 


B 

Gilbert’s  Christmas  Carols,  2d  ed.,  p.  65,  from  the  editor’s 
recollection.  West  of  England. 

1  There  were  three  sisters  fair  and  bright, 

Jennifer  gentle  and  rosemaree 
And  they  three  loved  one  valiant  knight. 

As  the  dew  flies  over  the  mulberry  tree 

2  The  eldest  sister  let  him  in, 

And  barred  the  door  with  a  silver  pin. 

3  The  second  sister  made  his  bed, 

And  placed  soft  pillows  under  his  head. 

4  The  youngest  sister,  fair  and  bright, 

Was  resolved  for  to  wed  with  this  valiant 
knight. 


c 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  647.  From  the  recitation  of  Mrs 
Storie. 

1  There  was  a  knicht  riding  frae  the  east, 

Sing  the  Cather  banks,  the  bonnie  brume 
Wha  had  been  wooing  at  monie  a  place. 

And  ye  may  beguile  a  young  thing  sune 


5  ‘  And  if  you  can  answer  questions  three, 

•  0  then,  fair  maid,  I  will  marry  with  thee. 

6  ‘  What  is  louder  than  an  horn, 

And  what  is  sharper  than  a  thorn  ? 

7  1  Thunder  is  louder  than  an  horn, 

And  hunger  is  sharper  than  a  thorn.’ 

8  ‘  What  is  broader  than  the  way, 

And  what  is  deeper  than  the  sea  ?  ’ 

9  1  Love  is  broader  than  the  way, 

And  hell  is  deeper  than  the  sea.’ 

***** 

40  ....... 

‘  And  now,  fair  maid,  I  will  marry  with  thee.’ 


2  He  came  unto  a  widow’s  door, 

And  speird  whare  her  three  dochters  were. 

3  The  auldest  ane ’s  to  a  washing  gane, 

The  second ’s  to  a  baking  gane. 

4  The  youngest  ane ’s  to  a  wedding  gane, 
And  it  will  be  nicht  or  she  be  hame. 


1.  RIDDLES  WISELY  EXPOUNDED 


5 


5  He  sat  him  doun  upon  a  stane, 

Till  thir  three  lasses  came  tripping  hame. 

6  The  auldest  ane ’s  to  the  bed  making, 

And  the  second  ane ’s  to  the  sheet  spreading. 

7  The  youngest  ane  was  bauld  and  bricht, 

And  she  was  to  lye  with  this  unco  knicht. 

8  ‘  Gin  ye  will  answer  me  questions  ten, 

The  morn  ye  sail  he  made  my  ain. 

9  ‘  0  what  is  heigher  nor  the  tree  ? 

And  what  is  deeper  nor  the  sea  ? 

10  ‘  Or  what  is  heavier  nor  the  lead  ? 

And  what  is  better  nor  the  breid  ? 

11  ‘  0  what  is  whiter  nor  the  milk  ? 

Or  what  is  safter  nor  the  silk  ? 

12  ‘  Or  what  is  sharper  nor  a  thorn  ? 

Or  what  is  louder  nor  a  horn  ? 


13  ‘  Or  what  is  greener  nor  the  grass  ? 

Or  what  is  waur  nor  a  woman  was  ?  ’ 

14  ‘  O  heaven  is  higher  nor  the  tree, 

And  hell  is  deeper  nor  the  sea. 

15  ‘  0  sin  is  heavier  nor  the  lead, 

The  blessing ’s  better  nor  the  bread. 

16  ‘  The  snaw  is  whiter  nor  the  milk, 

And  the  down  is  safter  nor  the  silk. 

17  ‘  Hunger  is  sharper  nor  a  thorn, 

And  shame  is  louder  nor  a  horn. 

18  ‘  The  pies  are  greener  nor  the  grass, 
And  Clootie’s  waur  nor  a  woman  was.’ 

19  As  sune  as  she  the  fiend  did  name, 

He  flew  awa  in  a  blazing  flame. 


D 

/ 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  142. 

1  ‘  O  what  is  higher  than  the  trees  ? 

Gar  lay  the  bent  to  the  bonny  broom 
And  what  is  deeper  than  the  seas  ? 

And  you  may  beguile  a  fair  maid  soon 

2  ‘  0  what  is  whiter  than  the  milk  ? 

Or  wrhat  is  softer  than  the  silk  ? 

3  ‘  0  what  is  sharper  than  the  thorn  ? 

0  what  is  louder  than  the  horn  ? 

4  ‘  0  what  is  longer  than  the  way  ?. 

And  what  is  colder  than  the  clay  ? 


5  ‘  O  what  is  greener  than  the  grass  ? 

And  what  is  worse  than  woman  was  ?  ’ 

6  ‘  O  heaven ’s  higher  than  the  trees, 

And  hell  is  deeper  than  the  seas. 

7  ‘  And  snow  is  whiter  than  the  milk, 

And  love  is  softer  than  the  silk. 

8  ‘  0  hunger ’s  sharper  than  the  thorn, 

And  thunder ’s  louder  than  the  horn. 

9  ‘  O  wind  is  longer  than  the  way, 

And  death  is  colder  than  the  clay. 

10  . 1  0  poison ’s  greener  than  the  grass, 

And  the  Devil ’s  worse  than  eer  woman  was.’ 


A.  a.  Title.  A  Noble  Riddle  wisely  Expounded  : 
or,  The  Maids  answer  to  the  Knights  Three 
Questions. 

She  with  her  excellent  wit  and  civil  carriage, 

Won  a  young  Knight  to  joyn  with  him  in  mar¬ 
riage  ; 

This  gallant  couple  now  is  man  and  wife,  c.  Knights  questions.  Wed  a  knight  .  .  . 

And  she  with  him  doth  lead  a  pleasant  Life.  with  her  in  marriage. 

Tune  of  Lay  the  .bent  to  the  bonny  broom. 


WOODCUT  OF 
THE  KNIGHT. 


WOODCUT  OF 
THE  MAID. 


6 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


a.  Printed  for  F.  Coles,  T.  Yere,  I.  Wright, 
and  I.  Clarke. 

b.  Printed  for  W.  Thackeray,  E.  M.  and  A.  M. 

c.  Licens’d  according  to  Order.  London. 
Printed  by  Tho.  Norris,  at  the  L[o]oking 
glass  on  London-bridge.  And  sold  by  J. 
Walter,  in  High  Holborn. 

In  Rawlinson  and  Wood  the  first  seven  lines 
are  in  Roman  and  Italic  type  ;  the  remain¬ 
der  being  in  black  letter  and  Roman.  The 
Pepys  copy  has  one  line  of  the  ballad  in 
black  letter  and  one  line  in  Roman  type. 
The  Douce  edition  is  in  Roman  and  Italic. 

A.  I1.  c,  i’  th’  North  :  d,  in  the. 

31.  c,  This  knight. 

51.  a,  b,  c,  d,  The  youngest  sister. 

71.  b,  d,  The  youngest  that  same,  c,  that 
very  same. 

72.  a,  with  this  young  knight. 

92.  d,  sir  knight,  you  marry  me. 

After  10,  there  is  a  wood-cut  of  the  knight 
and  the  maid  in  a ;  in  b  two  cuts  of  the 
knight. 

II2.  c,  I  ’ll  marry,  d,  I  will. 

121.  c  omits  in  love.  122.  b,  c,  d,  three 
questions. 

141.  d,  a  horn. 

After  15 :  a,  Here  follows  the  Damosels  an¬ 
swer  to  the  Knight’s  Three  Questions  :  c. 


The  Damsel’s  Answers  To  The  Knight’s 
Questions :  d,  The  Damsel’s  Answer  to  the 
Three  Questions. 

17,  18.  b,  c,  d,  thunder ’s,  hunger ’s,  poy- 
son ’s,  devil ’s. 

182.  d,  the  woman. 

191.  c,  those. 

20.  a,  b  omit  truly. 

21 1  b,  c,  d,  as  ’t  is. 

B.  The  burden  is  printed  by  Gilbert ,  in  the  text , 

44  Jennifer  gentle  and  Rosemaree.”  He  ap¬ 
pears  to  take  Jennifer  and  Rosemaree  to  be 
names  of  the  sisters.  As  printed  under  the 
music,  the  burden  runs, 

Juniper,  Gentle  and  Rosemary. 

No  doubt,  juniper  and  rosemary,  simply,  are 
meant ;  Gentle  might  possibly  be  for  gentian. 
In  2  H  the  burden  is, 

Parsley,  sage,  rosemary  and  thyme  : 
curiously  varied  in  I  thus  : 

Every  rose  grows  merry  wi  thyme  : 

and  in  G, 

Sober  and  grave  grows  merry  in  time. 

C.  18.  “Vergris  in  another  set.”  M. 

D.  MS.  before  st.  1,  “  The  Devil  speaks  ;  ”  before 

st.  6,  “  The  maiden  speaks.” 


2 

THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


A.  4  A  proper  new  ballad  entituled  The  Wind  hath 
blown  n>y  Plaid  away,  or,  A  Discourse  betwixt  a 
young  [Wo]man_and  the  Elphin  Knight;’  a  broad¬ 
side  in  black  letter  in  the  Pepysian  library,  bound  up 
at  the  end  of  a  copy  of  Blind  Harry’s  4  Wallace,’ 
Edin.  1673. 

B.  4 A  proper  new  ballad  entitled  The  Wind  hath 
blawn  my  Plaid  awa,’  etc.  Webster,  A  Collection 
of  Curious  Old  Ballads,  p.  3. 

C.  ‘The  Elfin  Knicht,’  Kinloch’s  Anc.  Scott.  Ballads, 
p.  145. 

D.  ‘  The  Fairy  I^night,’  Buchan,  ii,  296. 

'  E.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  492. 


F.  4  Lord  John,’  Kinloch  MSS,  I,  75. 

G.  ‘  The  Cambrick  Shirt,’  Gammer  Gurton’s  Garland, 
p.  3,  ed.  1810.* 

H.  4  The  Deil’s  Courtship,’  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  92. 

I.  4  The  Deil’s  Courting,’  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  103. 

J.  Communicated  by  Rev.  Dr  Huntington,  Bishop  of 
Western  New  York,  as  sung  at  Hadley,  Mass. 

K.  Halliwell’s  Nursei’y  Rhymes  of  England,  p.  109,  No 
171,  6th  ed. 

L.  Notes  and  Queries,  1st  S.,  vn,  8. 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


7 


Pinkerton  gave  the  first  information  con¬ 
cerning  A,  in  Ancient  Scotish  Poems  .  .  . 
from  the  MS.  collections  of  Sir  Richard  Mait¬ 
land,  etc.,  II,  496,  and  he  there  printed  the 
first  and  last  stanzas  of  the  broadside.  Moth¬ 
erwell  printed  the  whole  in  the  appendix  to 
his  Minstrelsy,  No  I.  What  stands  as  the 
last  stanza  in  the  broadside  is  now  prefixed  to 
the  ballad,  as  having  been  the  original  burden. 
It  is  the  only  example,  so  far  as  I  remember, 
which  our  ballads  afford  of  a  burden  of  this 
kind,  one  that  is  of  greater  extent  than  the 
stanza  with  which  it  was  sung,  though  this 
kind  of  burden  seems  to  have  been  common 
enough  with  old  songs  and  carols** 

The  “  old  copy  in  black  letter  ”  used  for  B 
was  close  to  A,  if  not  identical,  and  has  the 
burden-stem  at  the  end  like  A.  ‘  The  Jock¬ 
ey’s  Lamentation,’  Pills  to  Purge  Melancholy, 
Y,  317,  has  the  burden, 

’T  is  oer  the  hills  and  far  away  [thrice]. 

The  wind  hath  blown  my  plaid  away. 

The  ‘  Bridal  Sark,’  Cromek’s  Remains  of 
Nithsdale  and  Galloway  Song,  p.  108,  and 
‘  The  Bridegroom  Darg,’  p.  113,  are  of  mod¬ 
ern  manufacture  and  impostures ;  at  least, 
they  seem  to  have  imposed  upon  Cromek. 

A  like  ballad  is  very  common  in  German. 
A  man  would  take,  or  keep,  a  woman  for  his 
love  or  his  wife  [servant,  in  one  case],  if  she 
would  spin  brown  silk  from  oaten  straw.  She 
will  do  this  if  he  will  make  clothes  for  her 
of  the  linden-leaf.  Then  she  must  bring  him 
shears  from  the  middle  of  the  Rhine.  But 

*  All  that  was  required  of  the  burden,  Mr  Chappell  kindly 
writes  me,  was  to  support  the  voice  by  harmonious  notes 
under  the  melody ;  it  was  not  sung  after  each  half  of  the 
stanza,  or  after  the  stanza,  and  it  was  heard  separately  only 
when  the  voices  singing  the  air  stopped.  Even  the  Danish 
ballads  exhibit  but  a  few  cases  of  these  “  burden-stems,”  as 
Grundtvig  calls  them:  see  Danmarks  Gamle  Folkeviser, 
n,  221,  B  1 ;  295,  B  1  ;  393,  A  1  :  iii,  197,  D;  470,  A. 
Such  burden-stems  are,  however,  very  common  in  Icelandic 
ballads.  They  are,  for  the  most  part,  of  a  different  metre 
from  the  ballad,  and  very  often  not  of  the  same  number  of 
*  lines  as  the  ballad  stanza.  A  part  of  the  burden  stem  would 
seem  to  be  taken  for  the  refrain ;  as  Islenzk  FornkvaeSi,  i, 
30,  of  four  verses,  1,  2,  4;  129,  of  two,  the  last  half  of  the 
first  and  all  the  second;  194,  of  four,  the  last;  225,  of  five, 
the  last  two  ;  ii,  52,  of  five,  the  second  and  last  two. 

In  later  times  the  Danish  stev-stamme  was  made  to  con- 


first  he  must  build  her  a  bridge  from  a  single 
twig,  etc.,  etc.  To  this  effect,  with  some  va¬ 
riations  in  the  tasks  set,  in  A,  ‘Eitle  Dinge,’ 
Rhaw,  Bicinia  (1545),  Uhland,  I,  14,  No  4 
A,  Bohme,  p.  376,  No  293.  B.  ‘Van  ideln 
unmoglichen  Dingen,’  Neocorus  (f  c.  1630), 
Chronik  des  Landes  Ditmarschen,  ed.  Dahl- 
mann,  p.  180  =  Uhland,  p.  15,  No  4  B,  Miil- 
lenliof,  p.  473,  Bohme,  p.  376,  No  294.  C. 
Wunderhorn,  n,  410  [431]  =  Erlach,  I,  441, 
slightly  altered  in  Kretzschmer  [Zuccalma- 
glio],  II,  620.  D.  ‘  Unmoglichkeiten,’  Schmel- 
ler,  Die  Mundarten  Bayerns,  p.  556.  E.  Schle- 
sische  Volkslieder,  p.  115,  No  93.  F.  ‘Liebes- 
Neckerei,’  Meier,  Schwabische  V.  L.,  p.  114, 
No  39.  G.  ‘  Liebesspielereien,’  Ditfurth, 
Frankische  V.  L.,  n,  109,  No  144.  H.  ‘Von 
eitel  unmoglichen  Dingen,’  Erk’s  Liederhort, 
p.  337,  No  152b.  ^  I.  ‘  Unmogliches  Begehr- 
en,’  V.  L.  aus  Oesterreich,  Deutsches  Mu¬ 
seum,  1862,  ii,  806,  No  16.  J.  ‘  Unmog- 
liche  Dinge,’  Peter,  Volksthiimliches  aus 
Osterreichisch-Schlesien,  i,  270,  No  82.  In 
K,  ‘  Wettgesang,’  Meinert,  p.  80,  and  L, 
Liederhort,  p.  334,  No.  152,  there  is  a  simple 
contest  of  wits  between  a  youth  and  a  maid, 
and  in  M,  Erk,  Neue  Sammlung,  H.  2,  No 
11,  p.  16,  and  N,  ‘  Wunderbare  Aufgaben,’ 
Prohle,  Weltliche  u.  geistliche  Volkslieder,  p. 
36,  No  22  B,  the  wit-contest  is  added  to  the 
very  insipid  ballad  of  ‘  Gemalte  Rosen.’ 

‘  Store  Fordringar,’  Kristensen,  Jydske 
Folkeviser,  I,  221,  No  82,  and  ‘  Opsang,’ 
Lindeman,  Norske  Fjeldmelodier,  No  35 
(Text  Bilag,  p.  6),  closely  resemble  German 

form  to  the  metre  of  the  ballad,  and  sung  as  the  first  stanza, 
the  last  line  perhaps  forming  the  burden.  Compare  the  stev- 
stamme,  Grundtvig,  iii,  470,  with  the  first  stanza  of  the  bal¬ 
lad  at  p.  475.  If  not  so  changed,  says  Grundtvig,  it  dropped 
away.  Lyngbye,  at  the  end  of  his  Faeroiske  Qvaeder,  gives 
the  music  of  a  ballad  which  he  had  heard  sung.  The  whole 
stem  is  sung  first,  and  then  repeated  as  a  burden  at  the  end 
of  every  verse.  The  modern  way,  judging  by  Berggreen, 
Folke-Sange  og  Melodier,  3d  ed.,  i,  352, 358,  is  simply  to  sing 
the  whole  stem  after  each  verse,  and  so  says  Grundtvig,  iii, 
200,  D.  The  whole  stem  is  appended  to  the  last  stanza 
(where,  as  usual,  the  burden,  which  had  been  omitted  after 
stanza  1,  is  again  expressed)  in  the  Faeroe  ballad  in  Grundt¬ 
vig,  iii,  199,  exactly  as  in  our  broadside,  or  in  Motherwell’s 
Minstrelsy,  Appendix,  p.  iii.  I  must  avow  myself  to  be  very 
much  in  the  dark  as  to  the  exact  relation  of  stem  and  bur¬ 
den. 


8 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


M,  N.  In  tile  Stev,  or  alternate  song,  in 
Landstad,  p.  3T5,  two  singers  vie  one  with  an¬ 
other  in  propounding  impossible  tasks. 

A  Wendish  ballad,  Haupt  and  Schmaler,  i, 
178,  No  151,  and  a  Slovak,  Celakowsky,  li, 
68,  No  12  (the  latter  translated  by  Wenzig, 
Slawische  Yolkslieder,  p.  86,  Westslavischer 
Miirchenschatz,  p.  221,  and  Bibliothek  Sla- 
vischer  Poesien,  p.  126),  have  lost  nearly  all 
their  story,  and,  like  German  K,  L,  may  be 
called  mere  wit-contests. 

The  Graidhne  whom  we  have  seen  winning 
Fionn  for  husband  by  guessing  his  riddles,  p. 
3,  afterwards  became  enamored  of  Diarmaid, 
Fionn’s  nephew,  in  consequence  of  her  acci¬ 
dentally  seeing  a  beauty  spot  on  Diarmaid’s 
forehead.  This  had  the  power  of  infecting 
with  love  any  woman  whose  eye  should  light 
upon  it :  wherefore  Diarmaid  used  to  wear  his 
cap  well  down.  Graidhne  tried  to  make  Diar¬ 
maid  run  away  with  her.  But  he  said,  “I  will 
not  go  with  thee.  I  will  not  take  thee  in  soft¬ 
ness,  and  I  will  not  take  thee  in  hardness ;  I 
will  not  take  thee  without,  and  I  will  not  take 
thee  within  ;  I  will  not  take  thee  on  horseback, 
and  I  will  not  take  thee  on  foot.”  Then  he 
went  and  built  himself  a  house  where  he 
thought  he  should  be  out  of  her  way.  But 
Graidhne  found  him  out.  She  took  up  a  posi¬ 
tion  between  the  two  sides  of  the  door,  on  a 
buck  goat,  and  called  to  him  to  go  with  her. 
For,  said  she,  “I  am  not  without,  I  am  not 
within  ;  I  am  not  on  foot,  and  I  am  not  on  a 
horse ;  and  thou  must  go  with  me.”  After 
this  Diarmaid  had  no  choice.  ‘  Diarmaid  and 
Grainne,’  Tales  of  the  West  Highlands,  m, 
39-49 ;  ‘  How  Fingal  got  Graine  to  be  his 
wife,  and  she  went  away  with  Diarmaid,’ 
Heroic  Gaelic  Ballads,  p.  153  ;  ‘  The  Death 
of  Diarmaid,’  ib.,  p.  154.  The  last  two  were 
written  down  c.  1774. 

In  all  stories  of  the  kind,  the  person  upon 
whom  a  task  is  imposed  stands  acquitted,  if 
another  of  no  less  difficulty  is  devised  which 
must  be  performed  first.  This  preliminary 
may  be  something  that  is  essential  for  the  ex- 

*  Grundtvig  has  noticed  the  resemblance  of  G.  R.  64  and 
the  ballad.  —  Much  of  what  follows  is  derived  from  the  ad¬ 
mirable  Benfey’s  papers,  *  Die  kluge  Dime,  Die  indischen 


ecution  of  the  other,  as  in  the  German  bal¬ 
lads,  or  equally  well  something  that  has  no 
kind  of  relation  to  the  original  requisition,  as 
in  the  English  ballads. 

An  early  form  of  such  a  story  is  preserved 
in  Gesta  Romanorum,  c.  64,  Oesterley,  p.  374. 
It  were  much  to  be  wished  that  search  were 
made  for  a  better  copy,  for,  as  it  stands,  this 
tale  is  to  be  interpreted  only  by  the  English 
ballad.  The  old  English  version,  Madden, 
XLm,  p.  142,  is  even  worse  mutilated  than 
the  Latin.  A  king,  who  was  stronger,  wiser, 
and  handsomer  than  any  man,  delayed,  like 
the  Marquis  of  Saluzzo,  to  take  a  wife.  His 
friends  urged  him  to  marry,  and  he  replied 
to  their  expostulations,  “  You  know  I  am  rich 
enough  and  powerful  enough ;  find  me  a  maid 
who  is  good  looking  and  sensible,  and  I  will 
take  her  to  wife,  though  she  be  poor.”  A  maid 
was  found  who  was  eminently  good  looking 
and  sensible,  and  of  royal  blood  besides.  The. 
king  wished  to  make  trial  of  her  sagacity,  and 
sent  her  a  bit  of  linen  three  inches  square, 
with  a  promise  to  marry  her  if  she  would 
make  him  a  shirt  of  this,  of  proper  length  and 
width.  The  lady  stipulated  that  the  king 
should  send  her  “  a  vessel  in  which  she  could 
work,”  and  she  would  make  the  shirt ;  “  michi 
vas  concedat  in  quo  operari  potero,  et  camisiam 
satis  longam  ei  promitto.”  So  the  king  sent 
“  vas  debitum  et  preciosum,”  the  shirt  was 
made,  and  the  king  married  her.*  It  may  be 
doubted  whether  the  sagacious  maid  did  not, 
in  the  unmutilated  story,  deal  with  the  prob¬ 
lem  as  is  done  in  a  Transylvanian  tale,  Halt- 
rich,  Deutsche  Volksmarchen,  u.  s.  w.,  No  45,  p.  • 
245,  where  the  king  requires  the  maid  to  make 
a  shirt  and  drawers  of  two  threads.  The 
maid,  in  this  instance,  sends  the  king  a  couple 
of  broomsticks,  requiring  that  he  should  first 
make  her  a  loom  and  bobbin-wheel  out  of  them. 

The  tale  just  cited,  ‘  Der  Burghiiter  und 
seine  kluge  Tochter,’  is  one  of  several  which 
have  been  obtained  from  tradition  in  this 
century,  that  link  the  ballads  of  The  Clever  . 
Lass  with  oriental  stories  of  great  age.  The 

Marchen  von  den  klugen  Rathsellosern,  nnd  ihre  Verbreitung 
liber  Asien  und  Europa,’  Ausland,  1859,  p.  457, 486,  511,  567, 
589,  in  Nos  20,  21,  22,  24,  25. 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


9 


material  points  are  these.  A  king  requires 
the  people  of  a  parish  to  answer  three  ques¬ 
tions,  or  he  will  be  the  destruction  of  them 
all :  What  is  the  finest  sound,  the  finest  song, 
the  finest  stone  ?  A  poor  warder  is  instructed 
by  his  daughter  to  reply,  the  ring  of  bells,  the 
song  of  the  angels,  the  philosopher’s  stone. 
“  Right,”  says  the  king,  “  but  that  never  came 
out  of  your  head.  Confess  who  told  you,  or 
a  dungeon  is  your  doom.”  The  man  owns 
that  he  has  a  clever  daughter,  who  had  told 
him  what  to  say.  The  king,  to  prove  her  sa¬ 
gacity  further,  requires  her  to  make  a  shirt  and 
drawers  of  two  threads,  and  she  responds  in 
the  manner  just  indicated.  He  next  sends  her 
by  her  father  an  earthen  pot  with  the  bottom 
out,  and  tells  her  to  sew  in  a  bottom  so  that 
no  seam  or  stitch  can  be  seen.  She  sends  her 
father  back  with  a  request  that  the  king 
should  first  turn  the  pot  inside  out,  for  cob¬ 
blers  always  sew  on  the  inside,  not  on  the  out. 
The  king  next  demanded  that  the  girl  should 
come  to  him,  neither  driving,  nor  walking,  nor’ 
riding  ;  neither  dressed  nor  naked ;  neither 
out  of  the  road  nor  in  the  road ;  and  bring  him 
something  that  was  a  gift  and  no  gift.  She 
put  two  wasps  between  two  plates,  stripped, 
enveloped  herself  in  a  fishing-net,  put  her 
goat  into  the  rut  in  the  road,  and,  with  one 
foot  on  the  goat’s  back,  the  other  stepping 
along  the  rut,  made  her  way  to  the  king. 
There  she  lifted  up  one  of  the  plates,  and 
the  wasps  flew  away  :  so  she  had  brought  the 
king  a  present  and  yet  no  present.  The  king 
thought  he  could  never  find  a  shrewder  woman, 
and  married  her. 

Of  the  same  tenor  are  a  tale  in  Zingerle’s 
Tyrolese  Kinder  u.  Hausmarchen,  ‘  Was  ist 
das  Schonste,  Stiirkste  und  Reichste?’  No 
27,  p.  162,  and  another  in  the  Colskorns’ 
Hanoverian  Marchen  u.  Sagen,  ‘  Die  kluge 
Dime,’  No  26,  p.  79.  Here  a  rich  and  a  poor 
peasant  [a  farmer  and  his  bailiff]  have  a  case 
in  court,  and  wrangle  till  the  magistrate,  in 
his  weariness,  says  he  will  give  them  three 

*  Ragnar  LoSbrok  (Saga,  c.  4,  Rafn,  Fomaldar  Sogur,  i, 
245),  as  pointed  out  by  the  Grimms,  notes  to  No  94,  re¬ 
quires  Kraka  (Aslaug)  to  come  to  him  clothed  and  not 
clothed,  fasting  and  not  fasting,  alone  and  not  without  a 

2 


questions,  and  whichever  answers  right  shall 
win.  The  questions  in  the  former  tale  are  : 
What  is  the  most  beautiful,  what  the  strong¬ 
est,  what  the  richest  thing  in  the  world? 
In  the  other,  What  is  fatter  than  fat  ?  How 
heavy  is  the  moon  ?  How  far  is  it  to  heaven  ? 
The  answers  suggested  by  the  poor  peasant’s 
daughter  are  :  Spring  is  the  most  beautiful  of 
things,  the  ground  the  strongest,  autumn  the 
richest.  And  the  bailiff’s  daughter  answers  : 
The  ground  is  fatter  than  fat,  for  out  of  it 
comes  all  that ’s  fat,  and  this  all  goes  back 
again ;  the  moon  has  four  quarters,  and  four 
quarters  make  a  pound ;  heaven  is  only  one 
day’s  journey,  for  we  read  in  the  Bible,  “  To¬ 
day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise.”  The 
judge  sees  that  these  replies  are  beyond  the 
wit  of  the  respondents,  and  they  own  to  hav¬ 
ing  been  prompted  by  a  daughter  at  home. 
The  judge  then  says  that  if  the  girl  will  come 
to  him  neither  dressed  nor  naked,  etc.,  he  will 
marry  her ;  and  so  the  shrewd  wench  becomes 
a  magistrate’s  wife. 

‘  Die  kluge  Bauerntochter,’  in  the  Grimms’  * 
Iv.  u.  H.  marchen,  No  94,  and  ‘  Die  kluge 
Hirtentochter,’  in  Profile’s  Marchen  fur  die 
Jugend,  No  49,  p.  181,  afford  another  variety 
of  these  tales.  A  peasant,  against  the  advice 
of  his  daughter,  carries  the  king  a  golden  mor¬ 
tar,  as  he  had  found  it,  without  any  pestle. 
The  king  shuts  him  up  in  prison  till  he  shall 
produce  the  pestle  [Grimms].  The  man  does 
nothing  but  cry,  “  Oh,  that  I  had  listened  to 
my  daughter  !  ”  The  king  sends  for  him,  and, 
learning  what  the  girl’s  counsel  had  been,  says 
he  will  give  her  a  riddle,  and  if  she  can  make 
it  out  will  marry  her.  She  must  come  to  him 
neither  clothed  nor  naked,  neither  riding  nor 
driving,  etc.  The  girl  wraps  herself  in  a  fish¬ 
ing-net  [Grimms,  in  bark,  Profile],  satisfies  the 
other  stipulations  also,  and  becomes  a  queen.* 

Another  story  of  the  kind,  and  very  well 
preserved,  is  No  25  of  Vuk’s  Volksmarchen 
der  Serben,  ‘  Yon  dem  Miidchen  das  an  Weis- 
heit  den  Kaiser  iibertraf,’  p.  157.  A  poor 

companion.  She  puts  on  a  fishing-net,  bites  a  leek,  and 
takes  her  dog  with  her.  References  for  the  very  frequent  oc¬ 
currence  of  this  feature  may  be  found  in  Oesterley’s  note  to 
Gesta  Romanorum,  No  124,  at  p.  732. 


10 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


man  had  a  wise  daughter.  An  emperor  gave 
him  thirty  eggs,  and  said  his  daughter  must 
hatch  chickens  from  these,  or  it  would  go  hard 
with  her.  The  girl  perceived  that  the  eggs 
had  been  boiled.  She  boiled  some  beans,  and 
told  her  father  to  be  ploughing  along  the  road, 
and  when  the  emperor  came  in  sight,  to  sow 
them  and  cry,  “  God  grant  my  boiled  beans 
may  come  up  !  ”  The  emperor,  hearing  these 
ejaculations,  stopped,  and  said,  “  My  poor 
fellow,  how  can  boiled  beans  grow  ?  ”  The 
father  answered,  according  to  instructions, 
“  As  well  as  chickens  can  hatch  from  boiled 
eggs.”  Then  the  emperor  gave  the  old  man 
a  bundle  of  linen,  and  bade  him  make  of  it, 
on  pain  of  death,  sails  and  everything  else 
requisite  for  a  ship.  The  girl  gave  her  father 
a  piece  of  wood,  and  sent  him  back  to  the 
emperor  with  the  message  that  she  would  per¬ 
form  what  he  had  ordered,  if  he  would  first 
make  her  a  distaff,  spindle,  and  loom  out  of 
the  wood.  The  emperor  was  astonished  at  the 
girl’s  readiness,  and  gave  the  old  man  a  glass, 
'with  which  she  was  to  drain  the  sea.  The  girl 
dispatched  her  father  to  the  emperor  again 
with  a  pound  of  tow,  and  asked  him  to  stop 
the  mouths  of  all  the  rivers  that  flow  into 
the  sea  ;  then  she  would  drain  it  dry.  Here¬ 
upon  the  emperor  ordered  the  girl  herself  be- 
.  fore  him,  and  put  her  the  question,  “What 
is  heard  furthest  ?  ”  “  Please  your  Majesty,” 

she  answered,  “  thunder  and  lies.”  The  em¬ 
peror  then,  clutching  his  beard,  turned  to  his 
assembled  counsellors,  and  said,  “  Guess  how 
much  my  beard  is  worth.”  One  said  so  much, 
another  so  much.  But  the  girl  said,  “  Nay, 
the  emperor’s  beard  is  worth  three  rains  in 
summer.”  The  emperor  took  her  to  wife. 

With  these  traditional  tales  we  may  put  the 
story  of  wise  Petronelle  and  Alphonso,  king 
of  Spain,  told  after  a  chronicle,  with  his  usual 
prolixity,  by  Gower,  Confessio  Amantis,  Pauli, 
I,  145  ff.  The  king  valued  himself  highly  for 
his  wit,  and  was  envious  of  a  knight  who  hither¬ 
to  had  answered  ali  his  questions.  Determined 
to  confound  his  humbler  rival,  he  devised 
three  which  he  thought  unanswerable,  sent 
for  the  knight,  and  gave  him  a  fortnight  to 
consider  his  replies,  which  failing,  he  would 


lose  his  goods  and  head.  The  knight  can 
make  nothing  of  these  questions,  which  are, 
What  is  that  which  needs  help  least  and  gets 
most  ?  What  is  Worth  most  and  costs  least  ? 
What  costs  most  and  is  worth  least  ?  The 
girl,  who  is  but  fourteen  years  old,  observing 
her  father’s  heavy  cheer,  asks  him  the  reason, 
and  obtains  his  permission  to  go  to  court  with  - 
him  and  answer  the  questions.  He  was  to  say 
to  the  king  that  he  had  deputed  her  to  an¬ 
swer,  to  make  trial  of  her  wits.  The  answer 
to  the  first  question  is  the  earth,  and  agrees 
in  the  details  with  the  solution  of  the  query, 
What  is  fatter  than  fat  ?  in  the  Tyrolese  and 
the  Hanoverian  tale._  Humility  is  the  answer 
to  the  second,  and  pride  the  third  answer. 
The  king  admires  the  young  maid,  and  says 
he  would  marry  her  if  her  father  were  noble  ; 
but  she  may  ask  a  boon.  She  begs  for  her 
father  an  earldom  which  had  lately  escheated ; 
and,  this  granted,  she  reminds  the  king  of 
what  he  had  said ;  her  father  is  now  noble. 
The  king  marries  her. 

In  all  these  seven  tales  a  daughter  gets  her 
father  out  of  trouble  by  the  exercise  of  a  su¬ 
perior  understanding,  and  marries  an  emperor, 
a  king,  or  at  least  far  above  her  station.  The 
Grimms’  story  has  the  feature,  not  found  in 
the  others,  that  the  father  had  been  thrown 
into  prison.  Still  another  variety  of  these 
stories,  inferior,  but  preserving  essential  traits, 
is  given  by  Schleicher,  Litauische  Marchen, 
p.  3,  ‘  Vom  schlauen  Madchen.’ 

A  Turkish  tale  from  South  Siberia  will 
take  us  a  step  further,  ‘  Die  beiden  Fiirsten,’ 
Radloff,  Proben  der  Yolkslitteratur  der  tiirk- 
ischen  Stamme  Sud-Sibiriens,  I,  197.  A 
prince  had  a  feeble-minded  son,  for  whom  he 
wished  to  get  a  wife.  He  found  a  girl  gath¬ 
ering  fire-wood  with  others,  and,  on  asking  her 
questions,  had  reason  to  be  pleased  with  her 
superior  discretion.  He  sent  an  ox  to  the 
girl’s  father,  with  a  message  that  on  the  third 
day  he  would  pay  him  a  visit,  and  if  by  that 
time  he  had  not  made  the  ox  drop  a  calf  and 
give  milk,  he  would  lose  his  head.  The  old 
man  and  his  wife  fell  to  weeping.  The  daugh¬ 
ter  bade  them  be  of  good  cheer,  killed  the  ox, 
and  gave  it  to  her  parents  to  eat.  On  the 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


11 


third  day  she  stationed  herself  on  the  road 
by  which  the  prince  would  come,  and  was  gath¬ 
ering  herbs.  The  prince  asked  what  this  was 
for.  The  girl  said,  “  Because  my  father  is  in 
the  pangs  of  child-birth,  and  I  am  going  to 
spread  these  liefbs  under  him.”  “  Why,”  said 
the  prince,  “  it  is  not  the  way,  that  men  should 
bear  children.”  “  But  if  a  man  can’t  bear 
children,”  answered  the  girl,  “  how  can  an  ox 
have  a  calf  ?  ”  The  prince  was  pleased,  but 
said  nothing.  He  went  away,  and  sent  his 
messenger  again  with  three  stones  in  a  bag. 
He  would  come  on  the  third  day,  and  if  the 
stones  were  not  then  made  into  boots,  the  old 
man  would  lose  his  head.  On  the  third  day 
the  prince  came,  with  all  his  grandees.  The 
girl  was  by  the  roadside,  collecting  sand  in  a 
bag.  “  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that 
sand?”  asked  the  prince.  “Make  thread,” 
said  she.  “  But  who  ever  made  thread  out  of 
sand  ?  ”  “  And  who  ever  made  boots  out  of 

stones?”  she  rejoined.  The  prince  laughed 
in  his  sleeve,  prepared  a  great  wedding,  and 
married  the  girl  to  his  son.  Soon  after,  an¬ 
other  prince  wrote  him  a  letter,  saying,  “  Do 
not  let  us  be  fighting  and  killing,  but  let  us 
guess  riddles.  If  you  guess  all  mine,  I  will 
be  your  subject ;  if  you  fail,  I  will  take  all 
your  having.”  They  were  a  whole  year  at 
the  riddles.  The  other  prince  “  knew  three 
words  more,”  and  threw  ours  into  a  deep  dun¬ 
geon.  From  the  depths  of  this  dungeon  he 
contrived  to  send  a  profoundly  enigmatic  dis¬ 
patch  to  his  daughter-in-law,  who  understood 
everything,  disguised  herself  as  one  of  his 
friends,  and  proposed  to  the  victor  to  guess 
riddles  again.  The  clever  daughter-in-law 

*  Benfey,  Das  Ausland,  1859,  p.  459.  The  versions  re¬ 
ferred  to  are:  Shukasaptati  (Seventy  Tales  of  a  Parrot), 
47th  and  48th  night ;  the  Buddhist  Kanjur,  Vinaya,  in,  fol. 
71-83,  and  Dsanglun,  oder  der  Weise  u.  der  Thor,  also  from 
the  Kanjur,  translated  by  I.  J.  Schmidt,  c.  23  ;  the  Mongol 
translation  of  Dsanglun  [see  Popow,  Mongolische  Chres- 
tomathie,  p.  19,  Schiefner’s  preface  to  Radloff,  i,  xi,  xii]  ; 
an  imperfect  Singhalese  version  in  Spence  Hardy’s  Manual 
of  Buddhism,  p.  220,  ‘  The  History  of  Wisakha ;  ’  *  Geschichte 
des  weisen  Iieykar,’  1001  Nacht,  Habicht,  v.  d.  Hagen  u. 
Schall,  xiu,  71,  ed.  1840;  ‘  Histoire  de  Sinkarib  et  de  ses 
deux  Visirs,’  Cabinet  des  Fees,  xxxix,  266  (Persian) ;  two 
old  Russian  translations  of  Greek  tales  derived  from  Arabic, 
Pypin,  *  in  the  Papers  of  the  Second  Division  of  the  Im- 


“knew  seven  words  more”  than  he,  took  her 
father-in-law  out  of  the  dungeon,  threw  his 
rival  in,  and  had  all  the  people  and  property 
of  the  vanquished  prince  for  her  own. 

This  Siberian  tale  links  securely  those  which 
precede  it  with  a  remarkable  group  of  stories, 
covering  by  representatives  still  extant,  or 
which  may  be  shown  to  have  existed,  a  large 
part  of  Asia  and  of  Europe.  This  group  in¬ 
cludes,  besides  a  W allachian  and  a  Magyar  tale 
from  recent  popular  tradition,  one  Sanskrit 
form  ;  two  Tibetan,  derived  from  Sanskrit ; 
one  Mongol,  from  Tibetan ;  three  Arabic  and 
one  Persian,  which  also  had  their  source  in 
Sanskrit ;  two  Middle-Greek,  derived  from 
Arabic,  one  of  which  is  lost ;  and  two  old  Rus¬ 
sian,  from  lost  Middle-Greek  versions.* 

The  gist  of  these  narratives  is  that  one  king 
propounds  tasks  to  another ;  in  the  earlier  ones, 
with  the  intent  to  discover  whether  his  brother 
monarch  enjoys  the  aid  of  such  counsellors  as 
will  make  an  attack  on  him  dangerous  ;  in  the 
later,  with  a  demand  that  he  shall  acquit 
himself  satisfactorily,  or  suffer  a  forfeit:  and 
the  king  is  delivered  from  a  serious  strait  by 
the  sagacity  either  of  a  minister  (whom  he  had 
ordered  to  be  put  to  death,  but  who  was  still 
living  in  prison,  or  at  least  seclusion)  or  of 
the  daughter  of  his  minister,  who  came  to  her 
father’s  assistance.  Which  is  the  prior  of 
these  two  last  inventions  it  would  not  be  easy 
to  say.  These  tasks  are  always  such  as  re¬ 
quire  ingenuity  of  one  kind  or  another*,  whether 
in  devising  practical  experiments,  in  contriv¬ 
ing  subterfuges,  in  solving  riddles,  or  even  in 
constructing  compliments. f 

One  of  the  Tibetan  tales,  which,  though 

perial  Acad,  of  Sciences,  St  Petersburg,  1858,  iv,  63-85  ;’ 
Planudes,  Life  of  ALsop ;  A.  and  A.  Schott,  Walachische 
Msehrchen,  p.  125,  No  9,  ‘  Vom  weissen  und  vom  rothen 
Kaiser;  ’  Erdelyi,  Nepdalok  es  Mondak,  nr,  262,  No  8,  *  The 
Little  Boy  with  the  Secret  and  his  Little  Sword.’  To  these  is 
to  be  added,  ‘  L’Histoire  de  Moradbak,’  Caylus,  Nouveaux 
Contes  Orientaux,  (Euvres  Badines,  vn,  289  ff,  Cabinet  des 
Fees,  xxv,  9-406  (from  the  Turkish?).  In  the  opinion  of 
Benfey,  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  likely,  though  not  demon¬ 
strable,  that  the  Indian  tale  antedates  our  era  by  several 
centuries.  Ausland,  p.  511  ;  see  also  pp.  487,  459. 

t  Ingenuity  is  one  of  the  six  transcendental  virtues  of 
Mabayana  Buddhism.  Schlagintweit,  Buddhism  in  Tibet, 
p.  36. 


12 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


dating  from  the  beginning  of  our  era,  -will 
very  easily  be  recognized  in  the  Siberian  tra¬ 
dition  of  this  century,  is  to  this  effect.  King 
Rabssaldschal  had  a  rich  minister,  who  de¬ 
sired  a  suitable  wife  for  his  youngest  son.  A 
Brahman,  his  trusty  friend,  undertook  to  find 
one.  In  the  course  of  his  search,  which  ex¬ 
tended  through  many  countries,  the  Brah¬ 
man  saw  one  day  a  company  of  five  hundred 
maidens,  who  were  making  garlands  to  offer  to 
Buddha.  One  of  these  attracted  his  notice  by 
her  behavior,  and  impressed  him  favorably 
by  replies  to  questions  which  he  put.*  The 
Brahman  made  proposals  to  her  father  in 
behalf  of  the  minister’s  son.  These  were  ac¬ 
cepted,  and  the  minister  went  with  a  great  train 
to  fetch  home  the  bride.  On  the  way  back  his 
life  was  twice  saved  by  taking  her  advice,  and 
when  she  was  domiciliated,  she  so  surpassed  her 
sisters-in-law  in  housekeeping  talents  and  vir¬ 
tues  that  everything  was  put  under  her  direc¬ 
tion.  Discord  arose  between  the  king  of  the 
country  she  had  left'  and  Rabssaldschal,  under 
whom  she  was  now  living.  The  former  wished 
to  make  trial  whether  the  latter  had  an  able 
and  keen-witted  minister  or  not,  and  sent  him 
two  mares,  dam  and  filly,  exactly  alike  in  ap¬ 
pearance,  with  the  demand  that  he  should  dis¬ 
tinguish  them.  Neither  king  nor  counsellor 
could  discern  any  difference  ;  but  when  the 
minister’s  daughter  heard  of  their  difficulty, 
she  said,  “  Nothing  is  easier.  Tie  the  two  to¬ 
gether  and  put  grass  before  them  ;  the  mother 
will  push  the  best  before  the  foal.”  This  was 
done  ;  the  king  decided  accordingly,  and  the 
hostile  ambassador  owned  that  he  was  right. 
Soon  after,  the  foreign  prince  sent  two  snakes, 
of  the  same  size  and  form,  and  demanded  which 
was  male,  which  female.  The  king  and  his 
advisers  were  again  in  a  quandary.  The  min¬ 
ister  resorted  to  his  daughter-in-law.  She  said, 
“  Lay  them  both  on  cotton-wool  :  the  female 
will  lie  quiet,  the  male  not;  for  it  is  of  the 
feminine  nature  to  love  the  soft  and  the  com¬ 
fortable,  which  the  masculine  cannot  tolerate.” 

*  The  resemblance  to  the  Siberian  tale  is  here  especially 
striking. 

t  The  Shukasaptati,  in  the  form  in  which  we  have  them, 
are  supposed  to  date  from  about  the  6th  century,  and  are 


They  followed  these  directions  ;  the  king  gave 
his  verdict,  the  ambassador  acquiesced,  the 
minister  received  splendid  presents.  For  a 
final  trial  the  unfriendly  king  sent  a  long  stick 
of  wood,  of  equal  thickness,  with  no  knots  or 
marks,  and  asked  which  was  the  under  and 
which  the  upper  end.  No  one  could  say.  The 
minister  referred  the  question  to  his  daughter. 
She  answered,  “  Put  the  stick  into  water  : 
the  root  end  will  sink  a  little,  the  upper  end 
float.”  The  experiment  was  tried  ;  the  king 
said  to  the  ambassador,  “  This  is  the  upper 
end,  this  the  root  end,”  to  which  he  assented, 
and  great  presents  were  again  given  to  the 
minister.  The  adverse  monarch  was  convinced 
that  his  only  safe  course  was  peace  and  con¬ 
ciliation,  and  sent  his  ambassador  back  once 
more  with  an  offering  of  precious  jewels  and 
of  amity  for  the  future.  This  termination  was 
highly  gratifying  to  Rabssaldschal,  who  said 
to  his  minister,  How  could  you  see  through  all 
these  things  ?  The  minister  said,  It  was  not 
I,  but  my  clever  daughter-in-law.  When  the 
king  learned  this,  he  raised  the  young  woman 
to  the  rank  of  his  younger  sister. 

The  wise  daughter  is  not  found  in  the  San¬ 
skrit  tale,f  which  also  differs  from  the  Bud¬ 
dhist  versions  in  this :  that  in  the  Sanskrit  the 
minister  had  become  an  object  of  displeasure 
to  the  king,  and  in  consequence  had  long  been 
lying  in  prison  when  the  crisis  occurred  which 
rendered  him  indispensable,  a  circumstance 
which  is  repeated  in  the  tale  of  The  Wise  Hey- 
kar  (Arabian  Nights,  Breslau  transl.,  XIII, 
73  ff,  Cabinet  des  F6es,  xxxix,  266  ff)  and 
in  the  Life  of  .Esop.  But  The  Clever  Wench 
reappears  in  another  tale  in  the  same  Sanskrit 
collection  (with  that  express  title),  and  gives 
her  aid  to  her  father,  a  priest,  who  has  been 
threatened  with  banishment  by  his  king  if  he 
does  not  clear  up  a  dark  matter  within  five 
days.  She  may  also  be  recognized  in  Morad- 
bak,  in  Yon  der  Hagen’s  1001  Tag,  vm, 
199  ff,  and  even  in  the  minister’s  wife  in  the 
story  of  The  Wise  Heykar. 

regarded  as  abridgments  of  longer  tales.  The  Yinaya  prob¬ 
ably  took  a  permanent  shape  as  early  as  the  beginning  of 
the  Christian  era.  As  already  remarked,  there  is  scarcely  a 
doubt  that  the  Indian  story  is  some  centuries  older  still. 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


13 


The  tasks  of  discriminating  dam  and  filly 
and  the  root  end  from  the  tip  end  of  a  stick, 
•which  occur  both  in  the  Tibetan  tales  and 
the  Shukasaptati,  are  found  again,  with  un¬ 
important  changes,  in  the  Wallachian  popular 
story,  and  the  Hungarian,  which  in  general 
resemble  the  Arabic.  Some  of  those  in  the 
Arabian  tale  and  in  the  Life  of  AEsop  are  of 
the  same  nature  as  the  wit-trials  in  the  Servian 
and  German  popular  tales,  the  story  in  the 
Gesta  Romanorum,  and  the  German  and  Eng¬ 
lish  ballads.  The  wise  Heykar,  e.  g.,  is  re¬ 
quired  to  sew  together  a  burst  mill-stone.  He 
hands  the  king  a  pebble,  requesting  him  first 
to  make  an  awl,  a  file,  and  scissors  out  of  that. 
The  king  of  Egypt  tells  AEsop,  the  king  of 
Babylon's  champion  sage,  that  when  his  mares 
hear  the  stallions  neigh  in  Babylon,  they  cast 
their  foal.  AEsop’s  slaves  are  told  to  catch  a 
cat,  and  are  set  to  scourging  it  before  the 
Egyptian  public.  Great  offense  is  given,  on 
account  of  the  sacred  character  of  the  animal, 
and  complaint  is  made  to  the  king,  who  sends 
for  AEsop  in  a  rage.  AEsop  says  his  king  has 
suffered  an  injury  from  this  cat,  for  the  night 
before  the  cat  had  killed  a  fine  fighting-cock 
of  his.  “  Fie,  AEsop  !  ”  says  the  king  of  Egypt ; 
“  how  could  the  cat  go  from  Egypt  to  Babylon 
in  one  night?”  “Why  not,”  replies  AEsop, 
“  as  well  as  mares  in  Egypt  hear  the  stallions 
neigh  in  Babylon  and  cast  their  foal  ?  ” 

The  tales  in  the  Shukasaptati  and  in  the 
Dsanglun  represent  the  object  of  the  sending 
of  the  tasks  to  be  to  ascertain  whether  the 
king  retains  the  capable  minister  through 
whom  he  has  acquired  supremacy.  According 
to  the  Arabian  tale,  and  those  derived  from  it, 
tribute  is  to  be  paid  by  the  king  whose  rid¬ 
dles  are  guessed,  or  by  him  who  fails  to  guess. 

*  Amasis  in  return  (8)  puts  some  of  the  questions  which 
we  are  apt  to  think  of  as  peculiarly  mediaeval :  What  is  old¬ 
est  ?  What  is  most  beautiful,  biggesf,  wisest,  strongest  ?  etc. 
Two  of  these  we  have  had  in  Zingerle’s  story.  They  are  an¬ 
swered  in  a  commonplace  way  by  the  ASthiop,  with  more  re¬ 
finement  by  Thales.  Seven  similar  questions  were  propounded 
by  David  to  his  sons,  to  determine  who  was  worthiest  to 
succeed  him,  and  answered  by  Solomon,  according  to  an 
Arabian  writer  of  the  14th  century  :  Rosenol,  i,  167.  Ama¬ 
sis  also  sent  a  victim  to  Bias  (2),  and  asked  him  to  cut  out 
the  best  and  worst  of  the  flesh.  Bias  cut  out  the  tongue. 
Here  the  two  anticipate  the  Anglo-Saxon  Salomon  and  Sat- 


Tliis  form  of  story,  though  it  is  a  secondary 
one,  is  yet  by  no  means  late,  as  is  shown  by 
the  anecdote  in  Plutarch,  Septem  Sapientum 
Convivium  (6),  itself  probably  a  fragment  of 
such  a  story,  in  which  the  king  of  the  AEthiops 
gives  a  task  to  Amasis,  king  of  Egypt,  with  a 
stake  of  many  towms  and  cities.  This  task  is 
the  favorite  one  of  draining  [drinking]  all  the 
water  in  the  sea,  which  we  have  had  in  the 
Servian  tale  (it  also  is  in  the  Life  of  AEsop), 
and  Bias  gives  the  customary  advice  for  deal¬ 
ing  with  it.* 

From  the  number  of  these  wise  virgins 
should  not  be  excluded  the  king's  daughter 
in  the  Gesta  Romanorum  who  guesses  rightly 
among  the  riddles  of  the  three  casjcets  and 
marries  the  emperor’s  son,  though  Bassanio 
has  extinguished  her  just  fame :  Madden’s 
Old  English  Versions,  p.  238,  No  66;  Collier, 
Shakspere’s  Library,  II,  102. 

The  first  three  or  four  stanzas  of  A-E  form  . 
the  beginning  of  ‘  Lady  Isabel  and  the  Elf- 
Knight,’  and  are  especially  appropriate  to  that, 
ballad,  but  not  to  this.  The  two  last  stanzas  of 
A,  B,  make  no  kind  of  sense  here,  and  these 
at  least,  probably  the  opening  verses  as  well, 
must  belong  to  some  other  and  lost  ballad. 
An  elf  setting  tasks,  or  even  giving  riddles, 
is  unknown,  I  believe,  in  Northern  tradition, 
and  in  no  form  of  this  story,  except  the  Eng¬ 
lish,  is  a  preternatural  personage  of  any  kind 
the  hero.  Still  it  is  better  to  urge  nothing  more 
than  that  the  elf  is  an  intruder  in  this  par¬ 
ticular  ballad,  for  riddle-craft  is  practised  by 
a  variety  of  preternatural  beings  :  notoriously 
by  Odin,  Thor,  the  giant  VafpruSnir,  and  the 
dwarf  Alwfss  in  the  Edda,  and  again  by  a 
German  “  berggeist  ”  (Ey,  Harzmarchenbuch,' 
p.  64,  ‘  Die  verwiinschte  Prinzessin’),  a  Greek' 

urn  :  “  Tell  me  what  is  best  and  worst  among  men.”  “  I  tell 
thee  word  is  best  and  worst:”  Kemble,  p.  188,  No  37; 
Adrian  and  Ritheus,  p.  204,  No  43  ;  and  Bedse  Collectanea, 
p.  326.  This  is  made  into  a  very  long  story  in  the  Life 
of  iEsop,  11.  See  other  examples  in  Knust,  Mittheilungen 
aus  dem  Eskurial,  p.  326  f,  note  b,  and  Nachtrag,  p.  647  ; 
Oesterley’s  Ivirchhof,  v,  94,  note  to  3,  129 ;  and  Lands- 
berger,  Die  Fabeln  des  Sophos,  cx,  ff.  We  may  add  that 
Plutarch’s  question,  Which  was  first,  the  bird  or  the 
egg  1  (Qusest.  Conviv.  1.  2,  q.  3),  comes  up  again  in  The  De- 
maundes  Joyous,  No  41,  Kemble’s  Salomon  and  Saturn, 
p.  290. 


14 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


dragon  (Haliti,  Griechische  u.  Albanesische 
Marchen,  H,  210),  the  Russian  rusalka,  the 
Servian  vila,*  the  Indian  rakshas.  For  exam¬ 
ple  :  a  rusalka  (water-nymph)  pursues  a  pretty 
girl,  and  says,  I  will  give  you  three  riddles :  if 
you  guess  them,  I  will  let  you  go  home  to  your 
father ;  if  you  do  not,  I  shall  take  you  with 
me.  What  grows  without  a  root  ?  What  runs 
without  any  object  ?  What  blooms  without 
any  flower  ?  She  answers,  Stones  grow  with¬ 
out  a  root ;  water  runs  without  any  object ;  the 
fern  blooms  without  any  flower.  These  an¬ 
swers  seem  satisfactory,  as  riddles  go,  but  the 
ballad  concludes  (with  an  injustice  due  to  cor¬ 
ruption?),  “The  girl  did  not  guess  the  rid¬ 
dles  :  the#rusalka  tickled  her  to  death.”  (Woj- 
cicki,  Piesni,  I,  205.)  A  rakshas  (ogre)  says 
he  will  spare  a  man’s  life  if  he  can  answer  four 
questions,  and  shall  devour  him  if  he  cannot. 
What  is  cruel  ?  What  is  most  to  the  advan¬ 
tage  of  a  householder  ?  What  is  love  ?  What 
best  accomplishes  difficult  things  ?  These  ques¬ 
tions  the  man  answers,  and  confirms  his  an¬ 
swers  by  tales,  and  gains  the  rakshas’  good 
will.  (Jacob,  Hindoo  Tales,  or  the  Adven¬ 
tures  of  Ten  Princes,  a  translation  of  the  San¬ 
skrit  Dasakumaracharitam,  p.  260  ff.) 

The  auld  man  in  J  is  simply  the  “  unco 
knicht  ”  of  1  C,  D,  over  again.  He  has  clearly 
displaced  the  elf-knight,  for  the  elf’s  attributes 
of  hill-haunting  and  magical  music  remain, 
only  they  have  been  transferred  to  the  lady. 
That  the  devil  should  supplant  the  knight, 
unco  or  familiar,  is  natural  enough.  He  may 
come  in  as  the  substitute  of  the  elfin  knight 
because  the  devil  is  the  regular  successor  to  any 
heathen  sprite,  or  as  the  embodiment  of  craft 

i 

*  Afanasief,  Poetic  Views  of  the  Slavonians  about  Na¬ 
ture,  i,  25.  The  poludnitsa  seems  to  belong  to  the  same 
class:  Afanasief,  in,  76;  Ralston,  Songs  of  the  Russian 
People,  p.  147. 

t  The  legend  of  St  Andrew  in  Legenda  Aurea,  Grasse, 
cap.  n,  9,  p.  19  if;  also  in  the  Pornsvenskt  Legendarium, 
i,  143  ff ;  Zambrini,  Leggende  Inedite,  ii,  94  ff;  Pitre, 
Canti  pop.  Siciliani,  n,  232  if:  that  of  St  Bartholomew, 
Grasse,  p.  545,  cap.  exxm,  5,  and  in  a  German  Passional, 


and  duplicity,  and  to  give  us  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  him  outwitted.  We  find  the  devil  giv¬ 
ing  riddles,  as  they  are  called  (tasks),  in  the 
Grimms’  K.  u.  H.  marchen,  No  125  (see  also 
the  note  in  vol.  Ill)  ;  Profile’s  K.  u.  V.  mar¬ 
chen,  No  19;  Vernaleken,  Oesterreichische  K. 
u.  H.  marchen,  No  37.  He  also  appears  as 
a  riddle-monger  in  one  of  the  best  stories  in 
the  Golden  Legend.  A  bishop,  who  was  es¬ 
pecially  devoted  to  St  Andrew,  was  tempted 
by  Satan  under  the  semblance  of  a  beautiful 
woman,  and  was  all  but  lost,  when  a  loud 
knocking  was  heard  at  the  door.  A  pilgrim 
demanded  admittance.  The  lady,  being  asked 
her  pleasure  about  this,  recommended  that 
three  questions  should  be  put  to  the  stranger, 
to  show  whether  he  were  fit  to  appear  in  such 
presence.  Two  questions  having  been  an¬ 
swered  unexceptionably,  the  fiend  proposed  a 
third,  which  was  meant  to  be  a  clincher :  How 
far  is  it  from  earth  to  heaven  ?  “  Go  back  to 

him  that  sent  you,”  said  the  pilgrim  (none  oth¬ 
er  than  St  Andrew)  to  the  messenger,  “  ancl 
say  that  he  himself  knows  best,  for  he  meas¬ 
ured  the  distance  when  he  fell.”  Antiquus  hos- 
tis  de  medio  evanuit.  Much  the  same  is  re¬ 
lated  in  the  legend  of  St  Bartholomew,  and, 
in  a  Slovenian  ballad,  of  St  Ulrich,  who  inter¬ 
poses  to  save  the  Pope  from  espousing  Satan 
in  disguise.! 

J,  K,  L,  have  completely  lost  sight  of  the 
original  story. 

Translated,  after  A,  C,  and  D,  in  Grundt- 
vig’s  Engelske  og  skotske  Folkeviser,  p.  251 ; 
R.  Warrens,  Schottische  Lieder  der  Vorzeit,  p. 
8;  Knortz,  Lieder  u.  Romanzen  Alt-Englands, 
No  54. 

Mone’s  Anzeiger,  1839,  vm,  col.  319  f  :  that  of  St  Ulrich  in 
Achazel  and  Korytko,  i,  76,  ‘  Sveti  Ureli,’  translated  by  A. 
Grim,  Volkslieder  aus  Krain,  p.  136  ff.  The  third  question 
and  answer  are  in  all  the  same.  St  Serf  also  has  the  credit 
of  having  baffled  the  devil  by  answering  occult  questions  in 
divinity :  Wintown’s  Scottish  Chronicle,  i,  131,  v,  1238  ff, 
first  pointed  out  by  Motherwell,  Minstrelsy,  p.  lxxiv,  who 
besides  cites  the  legend  of  St  Andrew. 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


15 


A  broadside  in  black  letter,  “  printed,  I  suppose,”  says 
Pinkerton,  “  about  1670,”  bound  up  with  five  other  pieces  at 
the  end  of  a  copy  of  Blind  Harry’s  ‘  Wallace,’  Edin.  1673,  in 
the  Pcpysian  Library. 

My  plaid  awa,  my  plaid  awa, 

And  ore  the  hill  and  far  awa, 

And  far  awa  to  Norrowa, 

My  plaid  shall  not  be  blown  awa. 

1  The  elphin  knight  sits  on  yon  hill, 

Ba,  ba,  ba,  lilli  ha 

He  blaws  his  horn  both  lowd  and  sliril. 

The  wind  hath  blown  my  plaid  awa 

2  He  blowes  it  east,  he  blowes  it  west, 

He  blowes  it  where  he  lyketh  best. 

3  ‘  I  wish  that  horn  were  in  my  kist, 

Yea,  and  the  knight  in  my  armes  two.’ 

4  She  had  no  sooner  these  words  said, 

When  that  the  knight  came  to  her  bed. 

5  ‘  Thou  art  over  young  a  maid,’  quoth  he, 

‘  Married  with  me  thou  il  wouldst  be.’ 

6  ‘  I  have  a  sister  younger  than  I, 

And  she  was  married  yesterday.’ 

7  ‘  Married  with  me  if  thou  wouldst  be, 

A  courtesie  thou  must  do  to  me. 

8  ‘For  thou  must  shape  a  sark  to  me, 

Without  any  cut  or  heme,’  quoth  he. 


B  ‘ 

A  Collection  of  Curious  Old  Ballads,  etc.,  p.  3.  Partly 
from  an  old  copy  in  black-letter,  and  partly  from  the  recita¬ 
tion  of  an  old  lady. 

My  plaid  awa,  my  plaid  awa, 

And  owre  the  hills  and  far  awa, 

And  far  awa  to  Norrowa, 

My  plaid  shall  not  be  blawn  awa. 

1  The  Elphin  knight  sits  on  yon  hill, 

Ba,  ba,  ba,  lillie  ba 

He  blaws  his  horn  baith  loud  and  shrill. 

The  wind  hath  blawn  my  plaid  awa 


9  ‘  Thou  must  shape  it  knife-and-sheerlesse, 
And  also  sue  it  needle-threedlesse.’ 

10  ‘  H  that  piece  of  courtesie  I  do  to  thee, 
Another  thou  must  do  to  me. 

11  ‘  I  have  an  aiker  of  good  ley-land, 

Which  lyeth  low  by  yon  sea-strand. 

12  ‘For  thou  must  eare  it  with  thy  horn, 

So  thou  must  sow  it  with  thy  corn. 

13  ‘  And  bigg  a  cart  of  stone  and  lyme, 

Robin  Redbreast  he  must  trail  it  harne. 

14  ‘  Thou  must  barn  it  in  a  mouse-holl, 

And  thrash  it  into  thy  shoes  soli. 

15  ‘  And  thou  must  winnow  it  in  thy  looff, 

And  also  seek  it  in  thy  glove. 

16  ‘For  thou  must  bring  it  over  the  sea, 

And  thou  must  bring  it  dry  home  to  me. 

17  ‘  When  thou  hast  gotten  thy  turns  well  done, 
Then  come  to  me  and  get  thy  sark  then.’ 

\  . 

18  ‘  I  ’1  not  quite  my  plaid  for  my  life  ; 

It  haps  my  seven  bairns  and  my  wife.* 

The  wind  shall  not  blow  my  plaid  awa 

19  ‘  My  maidenhead  I  ’1  then  keep  still, 

Let  the  elphin  knight  do  what  he  will.’ 

The  wind ’s  not  blown  my  plaid  awa 


2  He  blaws  it  east,  he  blaws  it  west, 

He  blaws  it  where  he  liketh  best. 

3  ‘  I  wish  that  horn  were  in  my  kist, 

Yea,  and  the  knight  in  my  arms  niest.’ 

4  She  had  no  sooner  these  words  said, 
Than  the  knight  came  to  her  bed. 

5  ‘  Thou  art  oer  young  a  maid,’  quoth  he, 

‘  Married  with  me  that  thou  wouldst  be.’ 

6  ‘  I  have  a  sister,  younger  than  I, 

And  she  was  married  yesterday.’ 


16 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


7  ‘  Married  with  me  if  thou  wouldst  be, 

A  curtisie  thou  must  do  to  me. 

8  ‘  It ’s  ye  maun  mak  a  sark  to  me, 

Without  any  cut  or  seam,’  quoth  he. 

9  ‘  And  ye  maun  shape  it,  knife-,  sheerless, 
And  also  sew  it  needle-,  threedless.’ 

10  ‘  If  that  piece  of  courtisie  I  do  to  thee, 
Another  thou  must  do  to  me. 

11  ‘  I  have  an  aiker  of  good  ley  land, 

Which  lyeth  low  by  yon  sea  strand. 

12  ‘  It ’s  ye  maun  till ’t  wi  your  touting  horn, 
And  ye  maun  saw ’t  wi  the  pepper  corn. 

13  ‘  And  ye  maun  harrow ’t  wi  a  thorn, 

And  hae  your  wark  done  ere  the  morn. 


0 

Ivinloch’s  A.  S.  Ballads,  p.  145.  From  the  recitation  of 
M.  Kinnear,  a  native  of  Mearnsshire,  23  Aug.,  1 826. 

1  There  stands  a  knicht  at  the  tap  o  yon  hill, 

Oure  the  hills  and  far  awa 
He  has  blawn  his  horn  loud  and  shill. 

The  cauld  wind ’s  blawn  my  plaid  awa 

2  ‘  If  I  had  the  horn  that  I  hear  blawn, 

And  the  knicht  that  blaws  that  horn  !  ’ 

3  She  had  na  sooner  thae  words  said, 

Than  the  elfin  knicht  cam  to  her  side. 

4  ‘  Are  na  ye  oure  young  a  may 
Wi  onie  young  man  doun  to  lie  ?  ’ 

5  ‘  I  have  a  sister  younger  than  I, 

And  she  was  married  yesterday.’ 

6  ‘  Married  wi  me  ye  sail  neer  be  nane 
Till  ye  mak  to  me  a  sark  but  a  seam. 

7  ‘  And  ye  maun  shape  it  knife-,  sheer-less, 

And  ye  maun  sew  it  needle-,  threed-less. 

8  1  And  ye  maun  wash  it  in  yon  cistran, 

Whare  water  never  stood  nor  ran. 


14  ‘  And  ye  maun  shear  it  wi  your  knife, 

And  no  lose  a  stack  o ’t  for  your  life. 

15  ‘  And  ye  maun  stack  it  in  a  mouse  hole, 
And  ye  maun  thrash  it  in  your  shoe  sole. 

16  ‘  And  ye  maun  dight  it  in  your  loof, 

And  also  sack  it  in  your  glove. 

17  1  And  thou  must  bring  it  over  the  sea, 

Fair  and  clean  and  dry  to  me. 

18  ‘  And  when  that  ye  have  done  your  wark, 
Come  back  to  me,  and  ye  ’ll  get  your  sark.’ 

19  4 1  ’ll  not  quite  my  plaid  for  my  life ; 

It  haps  my  seven  bairns  and  my  wife.’ 

20  ‘  My  maidenhead  I  ’ll  then  keep  still, 

Let  the  elphin  knight  do  what  he  will. 


9  ‘  And  ye  maun  dry  it  on  yon  hawthorn, 
Whare  the  sun  neer  shon  sin  man  was  born.’ 

10  1  Gin  that  courtesie  I  do  for  thee, 

Ye  maun  do  this  for  me. 

11  ‘  Ye  ’ll  get  an  acre  o  gude  red-land 
Atween  the  saut  sea  and  the  sand. 

12  ‘  I  want  that  land  for  to  be  corn, 

And  ye  maun  aer  it  wi  your  horn. 

v  V 

13  ‘  And  ye  maun  saw  it  without  a  seed,  — N 
And  ye  maun  harrow  it  wi  a  threed. 

14  ‘  And  ye  maun  shear  it  wi  your  knife, 

And  na  tyne  a  pickle  o’t  for  your  life. 

15  ‘  And  ye  maun  moue  it  in  yon  mouse-hole 
And  ye  maun  thrash  it  in  your  shoe-sole. 

16  ‘  And  ye  maun  fan  it  wi  your  luves, 

And  ye  maun  sack  it  in  your  gloves. 

17  ‘  And  ye  maun  bring  it  oure  the  sea, 

Fair  and  clean  and  dry  to  me. 

18  ‘  And  whan  that  your  wark  is  weill  deen, 
Yese  get  your  sark  without  a  seam.’ 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


17 


D 

Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii,  296. 

1  The  Elfin  knight  stands  on  yon  hill, 

Blaw,  blaw,  blaw  winds,  blaw 
Blawing  his  horn  loud  and  shrill. 

And  the  wind  has  blawin  my  plaid  awa 

2  ‘  If  I  had  yon  horn  in  my  kist, 

And  the  bonny  laddie  here  that  I  luve  best! 

3  ‘  I  liae  a  sister  eleven  years  auld, 

And  she  to  the  young  men’s  bed  has  made 
bauld. 

4  ‘  And  I  mysell  am  only  nine, 

And  oh !  sae  fain,  luve,  as  I  woud  be  thine.’ 

5  ‘Ye  maun  make  me  a  fine  Holland  sark, 
Without  ony  stitching  or  needle  wark. 

6  ‘  And  ye  maun  wash  it  in  yonder  well, 

Where  the  dew  never  wat,  nor  the  rain  ever 

fell. 

7  ‘  And  ye  maun  dry  it  upon  a  thorn 
That  never  budded  sin  Adam  was  born.’ 


8  ‘Now  sin  ye  ’ve  askd  some  things  o  me, 

It ’s  right  I  ask  as  mony  o  thee. 

9  ‘  My  father  he  askd  me  an  acre  o  land, 
Between  the  saut  sea  and  the  strand. 

10  ‘  And  ye  maun  plow ’t  wi  your  blawing  horn, 
And  ye  maun  saw ’t  wi  pepper  corn. 

11  ‘  And  ye  maun  harrow ’t  wi  a  single  tyne, 

And  ye  maun  shear ’t  wi  a  sheep’s  shank  bane. 

12  ‘  And  ye  maun  big  it  in  the  sea, 

And  bring  the  statlile  dry  to  me. 

13  ‘  And  ye  maun  barn ’t  in  yon  mouse  hole, 

And  ye  maun  thrash ’t  in  your  shee  sole. 

14  ‘  And  ye  maun  sack  it  in  your  gluve, 

And  ye  maun  winno ’t  in  your  leuve. 

15  ‘  And  ye  maun  dry ’t  without  candle  or  coal, 
And  grind  it  without  quirn  or  mill. 

16  ‘  Ye  ’ll  big  a  cart  o  stane  and  lime, 

Gar  Robin  Redbreast  trail  it  syne. 

17  ‘  When  ye ’ve  dune,  and  finishd  your  wark, 

Ye  ’ll  come  to  me,  luve,  and  get  your  sark.’ 


E 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  492. 

1  The  Elfin  Knight  sits  on  yon  hill, 

Ba  ba  lilly  ba 

Blowing  his  horn  loud  and  shill. 

And  the  wind  has  blawn  my  plaid  awa 


F 

Kinloch  MSS,  i,  75.  From  Maiy  Barr. 

1  ‘  Did  ye  ever  travel  twixt  Berwick  and  Lyne  ? 

Sober  and  grave  grows  merry  in  time 
There  ye  ’ll  meet  wi  a  handsome  young  dame, 
Ance  she  was  a  true  love  o  mine. 

2  ‘Tell  her  to  sew  me  a  holland  sark, 

And  sew  it  all  without  needle-wark  : 

And  syne  we  ’ll  be  true  lovers  again. 


2  ‘  I  love  to  hear  that  horn  blaw  ; 

I  wish  him  [here]  owns  it  and  a’.’ 

3  That  word  it  was  no  sooner  spoken, 

Than  Elfin  Knight  in  her  arms  was  gotten. 

4  ‘You  must  mak  to  me  a  sark, 

Without  threed,  sheers  or  needle  wark.’ 


3  ‘  Tell  her  to  wash  it  at  yon  spring-well, 

Where  neer  wind  blew,  nor  yet  rain  fell. 

4  ‘  Tell  her  to  dry  it  on  yon  hawthorn, 

That  neer  sprang  up  sin  Adam  was  born. 

5  ‘  Tell  her  to  iron  it  wi  a  hot  iron, 

And  plait  it  a’  in  ae  plait  round.’ 

6  ‘  Did  ye  ever  travel  twixt  Berwick  and  Lyne  ? 
There  ye  ’ll  meet  wi  a  handsome  young  man, 

Ance  he  was  a  true  lover  o  mine. 


3 


18 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


7  ‘  Tell  him  to  plough  me  an  acre  o  land 
Betwixt  the  sea-side  hot  and  the  sea-sand, 

And  syne  we  ’ll  he  true  lovers  again. 

8  ‘  Tell  him  to  saw  it  wi  ae  peck  o  corn, 
And  harrow  it  a’  wi  ae  harrow  tine. 

9  ‘  Tell  him  to  shear  it  wi  ae  hook-tooth, 
And  carry  it  hame  just  into  his  loof. 


10  ‘  Tell  him  to  stack  it  in  yon  mouse-hole, 

And  thrash  it  a’  just  wi  his  shoe-sole. 

11  ‘  Tell  him  to  dry  it  on  yon  ribless  kiln, 

And  grind  it  a’  in  yon  waterless  miln. 

12  Tell  this  young  man,  whan  he ’s  finished  his 

wark, 

He  may  come  to  me,  and  hese  get  his  sark.’ 


G 

Gammer  Gurton’s  Garland,  p.  3,  ed.  1810. 

1  ‘  Can  you  make  me  a  cambrick  shirt, . 

Parsley,  sage,  rosemary  and  thyme-. 

Without  any  seam  or  needle  work  ? 

And  you  shall  he  a  true  lover  of  mine 

2  ‘  Can  you  wash  it  in  yonder  well, 

Where  never  sprung  water  nor  rain  ever  fell  ? 

3  1 2  Can  you  dry  it  on  yonder  thorn, 

Which  never  bore  blossom  since  Adam  was 
horn  ? 


H 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  92. 

1  ‘  Come,  pretty  Nelly,  and  sit  thee  down  by  me, 

Every  rose  grows  merry  wi  thyme 
And  I  will  ask  thee  questions  three, 

And  then  thou  wilt  be  a  true  lover  of  mine. 

2  ‘  Thou  must  buy  me  a  cambrick  smock 
Without  any  stitch  of  needlework. 

3  ‘  Thou  must  wash  it  in  yonder  strand, 

Where  wood  never  grew  and  water  neer  ran. 

4  ‘  Thou  must  dry  it  on  yonder  thorn, 

Where  the  sun  never  shined  on  since  Adam 
was  formed.’ 


4  ‘Now  you  have  askd  me  questions  three, 

I  hope  you  ’ll  answer  as  many  for  me. 

5  ‘  Can  you  find  me  an  acre  of  land 
Between  the  salt  water  and  the  sea  sand  ? 

6  ‘  Can  you  plow  it  with  a  ram’s  horn, 

And  sow  it  all  over  with  one  pepper  corn  ? 

7  ‘  Can  you  reap  it  with  a  sickle  of  leather, 

And  bind  it  up  with  a  peacock’s  feather  ? 

♦ 

8  ‘  When  you  have  done,  and  finishd  your  work, 
Then  come  to  me  for  your  cambrick  shirt.’ 


5  ‘  Thou  hast  asked  me  questions  three  ; 

Sit  down  till  I  ask  as  many  of  thee. 

6  ‘  Thou  must  buy  me  an  acre  of  land 
Betwixt  the  salt  water,  love,  and  the  sea-sand. 

7  ‘  Thou  must  plow  it  wi  a  ram’s  horn, 

And  sow  it  all  over  wi  one  pile  o  corn. 

8  ‘  Thou  must  shear  it  wi  a  strap  o  leather, 

And  tie  it  all  up  in  a  peacock  feather. 

9  ‘  Thou  must  stack  it  in  the  sea, 

And  bring  the  stale  o ’t  hame  dry  to  me. 

10  ‘  When  my  love ’s  done,  and  finished  his  work, 
Let  him  come  to  me  for  his  cambric  smock.’ 


I  And  she  had  musick  at  her  will. 

,  „  And  the  wind  has  blown  my  plaid  awa 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  103.  From  the  recitation  of  John 

McWhinnie,  collier,  Newtown  Green,  Ayr. 

2  Up  and  cam  an  auld,  auld  man, 

1  A  lady  wonned  on  yonder  hill,  Wi  his  blue  bonnet  in  his  ban. 

Hee  ba  and  balou  ba 


2.  THE  ELFIN  KNIGHT 


ID 


3  *  I  will  ask  ye  questions  three  ; 

Resolve  them,  or  ye  ’ll  gang  wi  me. 

4  ‘  Ye  maun  mak  to  me  a  sark, 

It  maun  he  free  o  woman’s  wark. 

5  ‘  Ye  maun  shape  it  knife-  sheerless, 

And  ye  maun  sew  it  needle-  threedless. 

6  ‘Ye  maun  wash  it  in  yonder  well, 

Whare  rain  nor  dew  has  ever  fell. 

7  ‘  Ye  maun  dry  it  on  yonder  thorn, 

Where  leaf  neer  grew  since  man  was  born.’ 

8  1 1  will  ask  ye  questions  three  ; 

Resolve  them,  or  ye  ’ll  neer  get  me. 

9  ‘I  hae  a  rig  o  bonnie  land 
Atween  the  saut  sea  and  the  sand. 


10  ‘  Ye  maun  plow  it  wi  ae  horse  bane, 

And  harrow  it  wi  ae  harrow  pin. 

11  ‘Ye  maun  shear ’t  wi  a  whang  o  leather, 
And  ye  maun  bind ’t  hot  strap  or  tether. 

12  ‘  Ye  maun  stack  it  in  the  sea, 

And  bring  the  stale  hame  dry  to  me. 

13  ‘  Ye  maun  mak  a  cart  o  stane, 

And  yoke  the  wren  and  bring  it  hame. 

14  ‘Ye  maun  thresh ’t  atween  your  lufes, 
And  ye  maun  sack ’t  atween  your  thies.’ 

15  ‘  My  curse  on  those  wha  learned  thee  ; 
This  night  I  weend  ye ’d  gane  wi  me.’ 


J 

Communicated  by  Rev.  F.  D.  Huntington,  Bishop  of 
Western  New  York,  as  sung  to  him  hy  his  father  in  1828,  at 
Hadley,  Mass.;  derived  from  a  rough,  roystering  “character” 
in  the  town. 

1  Now  you  are  a-going  to  Cape  Ann, 

F  ollomingkathellomeday 
Remember  me  to  the  self-same  man. 

Ummatiddle,  ummatidclle,  ummatallyho,  tal- 
lyho,  follomingkathellomeday 

2  Tell  him  to  buy  me  an  acre  of  land 
Between  the  salt-water  and  the  sea-sand. 


K 

Halliwell’s  Nursery  Rhymes  of  England,  6th  ed.,  p.  109, 
No  171. 

1  My  father  left  me  three  acres  of  land, 

Sing  ivy,  sing  ivy 

My  father  left  me  three  acres  of  land. 

Sing  holly,  go  whistle  and  ivy 

2  I  ploughed  it  with  a  ram’s  horn, 

And  sowed  it  all  over  with  one  pepper  corn. 


3  Tell  him  to  plough  it  with  a  ram’s  horn, 
Tell  him  to  sow  it  with  one  peppercorn. 

4  Tell  him  to  reap  it  with  a  penknife, 

And  tell  him  to  cart  it  with  two  mice. 

5  Tell  him  to  cart  it  to  yonder  new  barn 
That  never  was  built  since  Adam  was  born. 

6  Tell  him  to  thrash  it  with  a  goose  quill, 

Tell  him  to  fan  it  with  an  egg-shell. 

7  Tell  the  fool,  when  he ’s  done  his  work, 

To  come  to  me,  and  he  shall  have  his  shirt. 


3  I  harrowed  it  with  a  bramble  hush, 

And  reaped  it  with  my  little  penknife. 

4  I  got  the  mice  to  carry  it  to  the  barn, 

And  thrashed  it  with  a  goose’s  quill. 

5  I  got  the  cat  to  carry  it  to  the  mill ; 

The  miller  he  swore  he  would  have  her  paw, 
And  the  cat  she  swore  she  would  scratch  his 
face. 


20 


3.  THE  FATTSE  KNIGHT  UPON  THE  ROAD 


L 

Notes  and  Queries,  1st  S.,  vii,  8.  Signed  D. 

1  Mt  father  gave  me  an  acre  of  land, 

Sing  ivy,  sing  ivy 

My  father  gave  me  an  acre  of  land. 

Sing  green  bush,  holly  and  ivy 

2  I  ploughd  it  with  a  ram’s  horn. 


A.  The  verses  here  prefixed  to  the  ballad  are  ap¬ 
pended  to  the  last  stanza  in  the  broadside. 
For  Norrowa,  v.  3,  Pinkerton  has  To-morrow. 
91,  needle  and  sheerlesse. 

B.  ‘  A  Proper  New  Ballad  entitled  The  Wind  hath 

blawn  my  Plaid  awa,  or  a  Discourse  between  a 
Young  Woman  and  the  Elphin  Knight.  To  he 
sung  with  its  own  proper  tune.’ 

“  This  ballad  is  printed  partly  from  an  old  copy 
in  black  letter,  and  partly  from  the  recitation 
of  an  old  lady,  which  appears  to  he  the  Scot¬ 
tish  version,  and  is  here  chiefly  adhered  to.” 

D.  32.  hae  made. 


3  I  harrowd  it  with  a  bramble. 

4  I  sowd  it  with  a  pepper  corn. 

5  I  reapd  it  with  my  penknife. 

6  I  carried  it  to  the  mill  upon  the  cat’s  back. 

* 

#  *  #  * 

7  I  made  a  cake  for  all  the  king’s  men. 


91.  askd  shoidd  perhaps  be  left,  or  gave,  as  in 
K1,  L1. 

E.  Burden 2,  in  MS .,  1,  blown  her ;  2,  3,  blawn 
her;  4,  blawn  my. 

21,  blow  ;  22,  and  a. 

H.  I1.  He  speaks,  in  the  margin  of  MS. 

Burden1,  time  in  margin. 

51.  Maid  speaks,  in  margin. 

I.  Not  divided  regidarly  into  stanzas  in  the  MS. 

42.  needlewark  in  margin. 

101.  shin  ?  in  margin. 

L.  After  6 :  “  Then  follows  some  more  which  I 
forget,  but  I  think  it  ends  thus.” 


3 

THE  FAUSE  KNIGHT  UPON  THE  ROAD 

/ 

A.  ‘  The  Fause  Knight  upon  the  Road,’  Motherwell’s  B.  ‘  The  False  Knight,’  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  Ap- 
Minstrelsy,  Introduction,  p.  lxxiv.  pendix,  Musick,  p.  xxiv. 


This  singular  ballad  is  known  only  through 
Motherwell.  The  opening  stanza  of  a  second 
version  is  given  by  the  editor  of  the  music,  Mr. 
Blaikie,  in  the  Appendix  to  the  Minstrelsy. 
The  idea  at  the  bottom  of  the  piece  is  that  the 
devil  will  carry  off  the  wee  boy  if  he  can  non¬ 
plus  him.  So,  in  certain  humorous  stories, 
a  fool  wins  a  princess  by  dumfounding  her : 
e.  g.,  Halliwell’s  Popular  Rhymes  and  Nursery 
Tales,  p.  32  ;  Von  der  Hagen’s  Gesammtaben- 
teuer,  No  63,  hi,  179;  Asbjornsen  og  Moe, 
Norske  Folkeeventyr,  No  4.  But  here  the 


boy  always  gets  the  last  word.  (See  further 
on,  under 4  Captain  Wedderburn’s  Courtship.’) 

An  extremely  curious  Swedish  ballad  of  the 
same  description,  from  the  Lappfiord,  Finland, 
with  the  substitution  ff  an  *ld  crone,  possibly 
a  witch,  and  clearly  no  better  than  one  of  the 
wicked,  for  the  false  knight,  is  given  by  #skar  • 
Rancken  in  Nagra  Prof  af  Folksang  och  Saga 
i  det  svenska  Osterbotten,  p.  25,  No  10.  It  is 
a  point  in  both  that  the  replicant  is  a  wee 
boy  (gossen,  som  liten  var). 


3.  THE  FAUSE  KNIGHT  UPON  THE  ROAD 


21 


1  ‘  Why  are  you  driving  over  my  field  ?  ’  said  the 

carlin : 

‘  Because  the  way  lies  over  it,’  answered  the  boy, 
who  was  a  little  fellow. 

2  *  I  will  cut  [hew]  your  traces,’  said  etc.  : 

‘  Yes,  you  hew,  and  I  ’ll  build,’  answered  etc. 

3  ‘  I  wish  you  were  in  the  wild  wood  :  ’ 

‘  Yes,  you  in,  and  I  outside.’ 

4  ‘  I  wish  you  were  in  the  highest  tree-top  :  ’ 

‘  Yes,  you  up  in  the  top,  and  I  at  the  roots.’ 

5  ‘  I  wish  you  were  in  the  wild  sea :  ’ 

‘  Yes,  you  in  the  sea,  and  I  in  a  boat.’ 

6  4 1  ’ll  bore  a  hole  in  your  boat :  ’ 

‘  Yes,  you  bore,  and  I  ’ll  plug.’ 

7  ‘  I  wish  you  were  in  hell :  ’ 

‘  Yes,  you  in,  and  I  outside.’ 

8  ‘  I  wish  you  were  in  heaven  :  ’ 

‘Yes,  I  in,  and  you  outside.’ 

Chambers,  in  his  Popular  Rhymes  of  Scot¬ 
land,  p.  66  of  the  new  edition,  gives,  without 
a  word  of  explanation,  a  piece,  ‘  Harpkin,’ 
which  seems  to  have  been  of  the  same  char¬ 
acter,  but  now  sounds  only  like  a  “  flyting.”  * 
The  first  stanza  would  lead  us  to  expect  that 
Harpkin  is  to  be  a  form  of  the  Elfin  Knight 
of  the  preceding  ballad,  but  Fin  is  seen  to  be 
the  uncanny  one  of  the  two  by  the  light  of  the 
other  ballads.  Finn  (Fin)  is  an  ancestor  of 
Woden,  a  dwarf  in  Yoluspd  16  (19),  and  also 
a  trold  (otherwise  a  giant),  who  is  induced  by 
a  saint  to  build  a  church  :  Thiele,  Danske 
Folkesagn,  i,  45,  Grimm,  Mythologie,  p.  455. 
The  name  is  therefore  diabolic  by  many  ante¬ 
cedents. 

HARPKIN. 

1  Harpkix  gaed  up  to  the  hill. 

And  blew  his  horn  loud  and  shrill, 

And  by  came  Fin. 

*  At  the  last  moment  I  come  upon  this  :  “  The  only  safe¬ 
guard  against  the  malice  of  witches  is  *  to  flight  wi  dem,’ 
that  is,  draw  them  into  a  controversy  and  scold  them  round¬ 
ly  (Mrs  Saxby,  in  an  interesting  contribution  of  folk-lore 
from  Unst,  Shetland,  in  The  Leisure  Hour,  for  March  27, 


2  ‘  What  for  stand  you  there  ?  ’  quo  Fin : 

‘  Spying  the  weather,’  quo  Harpkin. 

3  ‘  What  for  had  you  your  staff  on  your  shou- 

tlier  ?  ’  quo  Fin  : 

‘  To  haud  the  cauld  frae  me,’  quo  Harpkin. 

4  ‘  Little  cauld  will  that  haud  frae  you,’  quo  Fin  : 

‘  As  little  will  it  win  through  me,’  quo  Harp¬ 
kin. 

5  ‘  I  came  by  your  door,’  quo  Fin  : 

‘  It  lay  in  your  road,’  quo  Harpkin. 

6  ‘  Your  dog  barkit  at  me,’  quo  Fin : 

‘  It ’s  his  use  and  custom,’  quo  Harpkin. 

7  ‘  I  flang  a  stane  at  him,’  quo  Fin  : 

‘  I ’d  rather  it  had  been  a  bane,’  quo  Harpkin. 

8  ‘  Your  wife ’s  lichter,’  quo  Fin : 

‘  She  ’ll  dim  the  brae  the  brichter,’  quo  Harp¬ 
kin. 

9  ‘  Of  a  braw  lad  bairn,’  quo  Fin  : 

‘  There  ’ll  be  the  mair  men  for  the  king’s  wars,’ 
quo  Harpkin. 

10  ‘  There ’s  a  strae  at  your  beard,’  quo  Fin  : 

1 1 ’d  rather  it  had  been  a  thrave,’  quo  Harp¬ 
kin. 

11  ‘  The  ox  is  eating  at  it,’  quo  Fin : 

‘  If  the  ox  were  i  the  water,’  quo  Harpkin. 

12  1  And  the  water  were  frozen,’  quo  Fin  : 

‘  And  the  smith  and  his  fore-hammer  at  it,’  quo 
Harpkin. 

13  ‘  And  the  smith  were  dead,’  quo  Fin  : 

‘  And  another  in  his  stead,’  quo  Harpkin. 

14  ‘  Giff,  gaff,’  quo  Fin  : 

‘  Your  mou ’s  fou  o  draff,’  quo  Harpkin. 

The  peit  (peat)  in  st.  3,  below,  as  I  am  in¬ 
formed  by  Dr  Davidson,  is  the  wee  boy’s  con¬ 
tribution  to  the  school  firing. 

1880,  p.  199.)  This  view,  which  has  apparently  affected 
‘  Harpkin,’  is  clearly  a  modern  misunderstanding.  Let  no 
one  trust  to  scolding  for  foiling  a  witch,  unless  he  “  knows 
more  words.” 


22 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


A 

Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  Introduction,  p.  lxxiv.  From 
Galloway. 

1  ‘  0  whare  are  ye  gaun  ?  ’ 

Quo  the  fause  knicht  upon  the  road  : 

‘  I  ’ra  gaun  to  the  scule,’ 

Quo  the  wee  boy,  and  still  he  stude. 


5  ‘  How  monie  o  them  are  mine  ?  ’ 
‘  A’  they  that  hae  blue  tails.’ 

6  ‘  I  wiss  ye  were  on  yon  tree  :  ’ 

‘  And  a  guide  ladder  under  me.’ 

7  ‘  And  the  ladder  for  to  break  :  ’ 

‘  And  you  for  to  fa  down.’ 


2  ‘  What  is  that  upon  your  back  ?  ’  quo  etc. 
‘  Atweel  it  is  my  bukes,’  quo  etc. 


8  ‘  I  wiss  ye  were  in  yon  sie  :  ’ 

‘  And  a  gude  bottom  under  me.’ 


3  ‘  What ’s  that  ye ’ve  got  in  your  arm  ?  ’ 
‘  Atweel  it  is  my  peit.’ 


9  ‘  And  the  bottom  for  to  break  :  ’ 
‘  And  ye  to  be  drowned.’ 


4  ‘  Wha ’s  aucht  they  sheep  ?  ’ 

‘  They  are  mine  and  my  mither’s.’ 


B 

Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  Appendix,  p.  xxiv,  No  xxxii. 

‘  O  WHARE  are  ye  gaun  ?  ’  quo  the  false  knight, 
And  false,  false  was  his  rede  : 


‘  I ’m  gaun  to  the  scule,’  says  the  pretty  little 
boy, 

And  still,  still  he  stude. 


4 

LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


A.  a.  ‘  The  Gowans  sae  gay,’  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the 
North  of  Scotland,  i,  22.  b.  ‘  Aye  as  the  Gowans 
grow  gay,’  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  563. 

B.  ‘  The  Water  o  Wearie’s  Well.’  a.  Buchan’s  MSS, 
II,  fol.  80.  b.  Buchan’s  B.  N.  S.,  ii,  201.  c.  Moth¬ 
erwell’s  MS.,  p.  561.  d.  ‘  Wearie’s  Wells,’  Harris 
MS.,  No  19. 

C.  a.  ‘  May  Colven,’  Herd’s  MSS,  i,  166.  b.  ‘  May 
Colvin,’  Herd’s  Scottish  Songs,  1776,  i,  93.  c.  ‘  May 
Colvin,  or,  False  Sir  John,’  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy, 
p.  67. 


D.  a.  ‘  May  Collin,’  Sharpe’s  Ballad  Book,  No  1 7,  p. 
45.  b.  ‘  Fause  Sir  John  and  May  Colvin,’  Buchan, 
B.  N.  S.,  ii,  45.  c.  ‘  May  Collean,’  Motherwell’s 
Minstrelsy,  Appendix,  p.  xxi. 

E.  ‘  The  Outlandish  Knight,’  Dixon,  Ancient  Poems, 
Ballads,  etc.,  p.  74  =  Bell,  Ancient  Poems,  Ballads, 
etc.,  p.  61. 

F.  ‘  The  False  Knight  Outwitted,’  Roxburgh  Ballads, 
British  Museum,  hi,  449. 


Of  all  ballads  this  has  perhaps  obtained  the 
widest  circulation.  It  is  nearly  as  well  known 
to  the  southern  as  to  the  northern  nations  of 
Europe.  It  has  an  extraordinary  currency  in 
Poland.  The  Germans,  Low  and  High,  and  the 


Scandinavians,  preserve  it,  in  a  full  and  evi¬ 
dently  ancient  form,  even  in  the  tradition  of 
this  generation.  Among  the  Latin  nations  it 
has,  indeed,  shrunk  to  very  meagre  proportions, 
and  though  the  best  English  forms  are  not 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


23 


without  ancient  and  distinctive  marks,  most  of 
these  have  been  eliminated,  and  the  better 
ballads  are  very  brief. 

A  has  but  thirteen  two-line  stanzas.  An 
elf-knight,  by  blowing  his  lioi’n,  inspires  Lady 
Isabel  with  love-longing.  He  appears  on  her 
first  breathing  a  wish  for  him,  and  induces 
her  to  ride  with  him  to  the  greenwood.*  Ar¬ 
rived  at  the  wood,  he  bids  her  alight,  for 
she  is  come  to  the  place  where  she  is  to  die. 
He  had  slain  seven  kings’  daughters  there, 
and  she  should  be  the  eighth.  She  persuades 
him  to  sit  down,  with  his  head  on  her  knee, 
lulls  him  asleep  with  a  charm,  binds  him  with 
his  own  sword-belt,  and  stabs  him  with  his 
own  dagger,  saying,  If  seven  kings’  daugh¬ 
ters  you  have  slain,  lie  here  a  husband  to  them 
all. 

B,  in  fourteen  four-line  stanzas,  begins  unin¬ 
telligibly  with  a  bird  coming  out  of  a  bush  for 
water,  and  a  king’s  daughter  sighing,  “  Wae ’s 
this  heart  o  mine.”  A  personage  not  charac¬ 
terized,  but  evidently  of  the  same  nature  as  the 
elf-knight  in  A,  lulls  everybody  but  this  king’s 
daughter  asleep  with  his  harp,f  then  mounts 
her  behind  him,  and  rides  to  a  piece  of  water 
called  Wearie’s  Well.  He  makes  her  wade 
in  up  to  her  chin ;  then  tells  her  that  he  has 
drowned  seven  kings’  daughters  here,  and  she 

*  ‘  The  Elfin  Knight  ’  begins  very  much  like  A,  hut  per¬ 
haps  has  borrowed  its  opeuiug  stanzas  from  this  ballad.  See 
page  13. 

t  The  second  stanza,  which  describes  the  harping,  occurs 
again  in  ‘  Glenkindie  ’  (st.  6). 

J  Perhaps  the  change  from  wood,  A,  to  water,  B-F,  was 
made  under  the  influence  of  some  Merman  ballad,  or  by  ad¬ 
mixture  with  such  a  ballad  ;  e.  g.,  ‘  Nokkens  Svig,’  Grundt- 
vig,  No  39.  In  this  (A)  the  nix  entices  a  king’s  daughter 
away  from  a  dance,  sets  her  on  his  horse,  and  rides  with  her 
over  the  heath  to  a  wild  water,  into  which  she  sinks.  It  is 
also  quite  among  possibilities  that  there  was  originally  an 
English  nix  ballad,  in  which  the  king’s  daughter  saVed  her¬ 
self  by  some  artifice,  not,  of  course,  such  as  is  employed-in  B- 
F,  but  like  that  in  A,  or  otherwise.  Maid  Heiemo,  in  Land- 
stad,  No  39,  kills  a  nix  with  “  one  of  her  small  knives.”  fiad 
she  put  him  to  sleep  with  a  charm,  and  killed  him  with  his 
own  knife,  as  Lady  Isabel  does,  there  would  have  been  noth¬ 
ing  to  shock  credibility  in  the  story. 

Aytoun,  Ballads  of  Scotland,  i,  219,  2d  ed.,  hastily  pro¬ 
nounces  Buchan’s  ballad  not  authentic,  “  being  made  up  of 
stanzas  borrowed  from  versions  of  ‘  Burd  Helen’  [‘Child 
Waters’].”  There  are,  indeed,  three  successive  steps  into  the 
water  in  both  ballads,  but  Aytoun  should  have  bethought 
himself  how  natural  and  how  common  it  is  for  a  passage  to 


is  to  be  the  eighth.  She  asks  him  for  one  kiss 
before  she  dies,  and,  as  he  bends  over  to  give 
it,  pitches  him  from  Ills  saddle  into  the  water, 
with  the  words,  Since  ye  have  drowned  seven 
here,  I  'll  make  you  bridegroom  to  them  all. 

C  was  first  published  by  David  Herd,  in  the 
second  edition  of  his  Scottish  Songs,  1776,  and 
afterwards  by  Motherwell,  “  collated  ”  with  a 
copy  obtained  from  recitation.  D,§  E,  F  are 
all  broadside  or  stall  copies,  and  in  broadside 
style.  C,  D,  E,  F  have  nearly  the  same  story. 
False  Sir  John,  a  knight  from  the  south  coun¬ 
try  [west  country,  north  lands],  entices  May 
Colven,  C,  D  [a  king’s  daughter,  C  16,  E  16  ; 
a  knight’s  daughter,  Polly,  F  4,  9],  to  ride  off 
with  him,  employing,  in  D,  a  charm  which  he 
has  stuck  in  her  sleeve.  At  the  knight’s  sug¬ 
gestion,  E,  F,  she  takes  a  good  sum  of  money 
with  her,  D,  E,  F.  They  come  to  a  lonely 
rocky  place  by  the  sea  [river-side,  F] ,  and  the 
knight  bids  her  alight :  he  has  drowned  seven 
ladies  here  [eight  D,  six  E,  F] ,  and  she  shall 
be  the  next.  But  first  she  is  to  strip  off  her 
rich  clothes,  as  being  too  good  to  rot  in  the 
sea.  She  begs  him  to  avert  his  eyes,  for  de¬ 
cency’s  sake,  and,  getting  behind  him,  throws 
him  into  the  water.  In  F  he  is  absurdly  sent 
for  a  sickle,  to  crop  the  nettles  on  the  river 
brim,  and  is  pushed  in  while  thus  occupied. 

% 

slip  from  one  ballad  into  another,  when  the  circumstances  of  * 
the  story  are  the  same  ;  and  in  some  such  cases  no  one  can 
say  where  the  verses  that  are  common  originally  belonged. 
Here,  indeed,  as  Grundtvig  remarks,  iv,  7,  note*,  it  may 
well  be  that  the  verses  in  question  belonged  originally  to 
‘Burd  Helen,’  and  were  adopted  (but  in  the  processes  of  tra¬ 
dition)  into  ‘  The  Water  of  Wearie’s  Well ;  ’  for  it  must  be 
admitted  that  the  transaction  in  the  water  is  not  a  happy 
conception  in  the  latter,  since  it  shocks  probability  that  the 
woman  should  be  able  to  swim  ashore,  and  the  man  not. 

§  “  This  ballad  appears  modem,  from  a  great  many  ex¬ 
pressions,  but  yet  I  am  certain  that  it  is  old :  the  present 
copy  came  from  the  housekeeper  at  Methven.”  Note  by 
Sharpe,  in  Laing’s  ed.  of  the  Ballad,  Book,  1880,  p.  130, 
xvii.  Motherwell,  in  his  Minstrelsy,  p.  lxx,  n.  24,  says  that 
he  had  seen  a  stall  ballad  as  early  as  1749,  entitled  ‘The 
Western  Tragedy,’  which  perfectly  agreed  with  Sharpe’s 
copy.  But  in  his  Note-Book,  p.  5  (about  1826-7),  Mother- 
well  says,  “  The  best  copy  of  May  Colean  with  which  I 
have  met  occurs  in  a  stall  copy  printed  about  thirty  years 
ago  [should  we  then  read  1799  instead  of  1749  ?],  under  the 
title  of  ‘  The  Western  Tragedy.’  I  have  subsequently  seen 
a  posterior  reprint  of  this  stall  copy  under  this  title,  ‘  The 
Historical  Ballad  of  May  Collean.’  In  Mr.  Sharpe’s  Ballad 
Book,  the  same  copy,  wanting  only  one  stanza,  is  given.” 


24 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


He  cries  for  help,  and  makes  fair  promises,  C, 
E,  but  the  maid  rides  away,  with  a  bitter  jest 
[on  his  steed,  D,  leading  his  steed,  E,  F],  and 
reaches  her  father’s  house  before  daybreak. 
The  groom  inquires  in  D  about  the  strange 
horse,  and  is  told  that  it  is  a  found  one.  The 
parrot  asks  what  she  has  been  doing,  and  is 
silenced  with  a  bribe  ;  and  when  the  father 
demands  why  he  was  chatting  so  early,  says 
he  was  calling  to  his  mistress  to  take  away 
the  cat.  Here  C,  E,  F  stop,  but  D  goes  on  to 
relate  that  the  maid  at  once  tells  her  parents 
what  has  happened,  and  that  the  father  rides 
off  at  dawn,  under  her  conduct,  to  find  Sir 
John.  They  carry  off  the  corpse,  which  lay 
on  the  sands  below  the  rocks,  and  bury  it,  for 
fear  of  discovery. 

There  is  in  Hone’s  Table  Book,  in,  130, 
ed.  1841,  a  rifacimento  by  Dixon  of  the  com¬ 
mon  English  broadside  in  what  passes  for  old- 
ballad  style.  This  has  been  repeated  in  Rich¬ 
ardson’s  Borderer’s  Table  Book,  vi,  367  ;  in 
Dixon’s  Scottish  Traditional  Versions  of  An¬ 
cient  Ballads,  p.  101 ;  and,  with  alterations, 
additions,  and  omissions,  in  Sheldon’s  Min¬ 
strelsy  of  the  English  Border,  p.  194. 

Jamieson  (1814)  had  never  met  with  this 
ballad  in  Scotland,  at  least  in  anything  like  a 
perfect  state ;  but  he  says  that  a  tale  to  the 
same  effect,  intermixed  with  scraps  of  verse, 
was  familiar  to  him  when  a  boy,  and  that  he 
afterwards  found  it,  “  in  much  the  same  state, 
in  the  Highlands,  in  Lochaber  and  Ardna- 
murchan.”  According  to  the  tradition  re¬ 
ported  by  Jamieson,  the  murderer  had  seduced 
the  younger  sister  of  his  wife,  and  was  seeking 
to  prevent  discovery,  a  difference  in  the  story 
which  might  lead  us  to  doubt  the  accuracy  of 
Jamieson’s  recollection.  (Illustrations  of  North¬ 
ern  Antiquities,  p.  348.) 

Stories  like  that  of  this  ballad  will  inevi¬ 
tably  be  attached,  and  perhaps  more  or  less 
adapted,  to  localities  where  they  become 
known.  May  Collean,  says  Chambers,  Scot¬ 
tish  Ballads,  p.  232,  note,  “  finds  locality  in 
that  wild  portion  of  the  coast  of  Carrick  (Ayr¬ 
shire)  which  intervenes  betwixt  Girvan  and 
Ballantrae.  Carlton  Castle,  about  two  miles 
to  the  south  of  Girvan  (a  tall  old  ruin,  situ¬ 


ated  on  the  brink  of  a  bank  which  overhangs 
the  sea,  and  which  gives  title  to  Sir  John 
Cathcart,  Bart,  of  Carlton),  is  affirmed  by  the 
country  people,  who  still  remember  the  story 
with  great  freshness,  to  have  been  the  resi¬ 
dence  of  ‘  the  fause  Sir  John ;  ’  while  a  tall 
rocky  eminence  called  Gamesloup,  overhang¬ 
ing  the  sea  about  two  miles  still  further  south, 
and  over  which  the  road  passes  in  a  style  ter¬ 
rible  to  all  travellers,  is  pointed  out  as  the 
place  where  he  was  in  the  habit  of  drowning 
his  wives,  and  where  he  was  finally  drowned 
himself.  The  people,  who  look  upon  the  bal¬ 
lad  as  a  regular  and  proper  record  of  an  un¬ 
questionable  fact,  farther  affirm  that  May  Col¬ 
lean  was  a  daughter  of  the  family  of  Kennedy 
of  Colzean,”  etc.  Binyan’s  (Bunion)  Bay,  in 
D,  is,  according  to  Buchan,  the  old  name  of 
the  mouth  of  the  river  Ugie. 

Far  better  preserved  than  the  English,  and 
marked  with  very  ancient  and  impressive  traits, 
is  the  Dutch  ballad  ‘  Halewijn,’  which,  not 
many  years  ago,  was  extensively  sung  in  Bra¬ 
bant  and  Flanders,  and  is  still  popular  as  a 
broadside,  both  oral  tradition  and  printed  cop¬ 
ies  exhibiting  manifold  variations.  A  version 
of  this  ballad  (A)  was  communicated  by  Wil¬ 
lems  to  Mone’s  Anzeiger  in  1836,  col.  448  ff, 
thirty-eight  two-line  stanzas,  and  afterwards 
appeared  in  Willems’s  Oude  vlaemsehe  Lie- 
deren  (1848),  No  49,  p.  116,  with  some  changes 
in  the  text  and  some  various  readings.  Uh- 
land,  I,  153,  74  D,  gave  the  Anzeiger  text, 
with  one  correction.  So  Hoffmann,  Nieder- 
landische  Volkslieder,  2d  ed.,  No  9,  p.  39,  but 
substituting  for  stanzas  19,  20  four  stanzas 
from  the  margin  of  O.  v.  L.,  and  making  other 
slighter  changes.  Baecker,  Chants  historiques 
de  la  Flandre,  No  9,  p.  61,  repeats  Willems’s 
second  text,  with  one  careless  omission  and 
one  transposition.  Coussemaker,  Chants  pop¬ 
ulates  des  Flamands  de  France,  No  45,  p.  142, 
professes  to  give  the  text  of  Oude  vlaemsehe 
Liederen,  and  does  so  nearly.  Snellaert,  Oude 
en  nieuwe  Liedjes,  3d  ed.,  1864,  No  55,  p.  58, 
inserts  seven  stanzas  in  the  place  of  S3,  34  of 
O.  v.  L.,  and  two  after  35,  making  forty-five 
two-  (or  three-)  line  stanzas  instead  of  thirty- 
eight.  These  additions  are  also  found  in  an 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


25 


excessively  corrupt  form  of  the  ballad  (B), 
Hoffnrtann,  No  10,  p.  43,  in  which  the  stanzas 
have  been  uniformly  extended  to  three  verses, 
to  suit  the  air,  which  required  the  repetition 
of  the  second  line  of  the  original  stanza. 

Heer  Halewijn  (A),  like  the  English  elf- 
knight,  sang  such  a  song  that  those  who  heard 
it  longed  to  be  with  him.  A  king’s  daughter 
asked  her  father  if  she  might  go  to  Halewijn. 
No,  he  said ;  those  who  go  that  way  never 
come  back  [sixteen  have  lost  their  lives,  B]. 
So  said  mother  and  sister,  but  her  brother’s 
answer  was,  I  care  not  where  you  go,  so  long 
as  you  keep  your  honor.  She  dressed  herself 
splendidly,  took  the  best  horse  from  her  fa¬ 
ther’s  stable,  and  rode  to  the  wood,  where  she 
found  Halewijn  waiting  for  her.*  They  then 
rode  on  further,  till  they  came  to  a  gallows, 
on  which  many  women  were  hanging.  Hale¬ 
wijn  says,  Since  you  are  the  fairest  maid, 
choose  your  death  [B  20  offers  the  choice  be¬ 
tween  hanging  and  the  sword].  She  calmly 
chooses  the  sword.  “  Only  take  off  your  coat 
first,  for  a  maid's  blood  spirts  a  great  way, 
and  it  would  be  a  pity  to  spatter  you.”  His 
head  was  off  before  his  coat,  but  the  tongue 
still  spake.  This  dialogue  ensues  : 

‘  Go  yonder  into  the  corn, 

And  blow  upon  my  horn, 

That  all  my  friends  you  may  warn.’ 

‘  Into  the  corn  I  will  not  go, 

And  on  your  horn  I  will  not  blow  : 

A  murderer’s  bidding  I  will  not  do.’ 

‘  Go  yonder  under  the  gallows-tree, 

And  fetch  a  pot  of  salve  for  me, 

And  rub  my  red  neck  lustily.’ 

*  According  to  the  variation  given  by  Willems,  and 
adopted  by  Hoffmann,  Ilalewijn’s  son  came  to  meet  her, 
tied  her  horse  to  a  tree,  and  bade  her  to  sit  down  by  him 
and  loose  her  hair.  For  every  hair  she  undid  she  dropped  a 
tear.  But  it  will  presently  be  seen  not  only  that  the  time 
has  not  come  for  them  to  sit  down,  but  that  Halewijn’s  bid¬ 
ding  her  undo  her  hair  (to  no  purpose)  is  a  perversion  of 
her  offering  to  “  red  ”  his,  to  get  him  into  her  power,  an  offer 
which  she  makes  in  the  German  and  Scandinavian  ballads, 
where  also  there  is  good  reason  for  her  tears,  but  none  as 
yet  here. 

t  J.  W.  Wolf,  Deutsche  Miirchen  u.  Sagen,  No  29,  p.  143, 
gives  the  story  according  to  B,  apparently  from  a  ballad  like 


‘  Under  the  gallows  I  will  not  go, 

Nor  will  I  rub  your  red  neck,  no, 

A  murderer’s  bidding  I  will  not  do.’ 

She  takes  the  head  by  the  hair  and  washes 
it  in  a  spring,  and  rides  back  through  the 
wood.  Half-way  through  she  meets  Hale¬ 
wijn’s  mother,  who  asks  after  her  son  ;  and 
she  tells  her  that  he  is  gone  hunting,  that  he 
will  never  be  seen  again,  that  he  is  dead,  and 
she  has  his  head  in  her  lap.  When  she  came 
to  her  father’s  gate,  she  blew  the  horn  like  any 
man. 

And  when  the  father  heard  the  strain, 

He  was  glad  she  had  come  back  again. 

Thereupon  they  held  a  feast, 

The  head  was  on  the  table  placed. 

Snellaert’s  copy  and  the  modern  three-line 
ballad  have  a  meeting  with  father,  brother, 
sister,  and  mother  successively.  The  maid’s 
answer  to  each  of  the  first  three  is  that  Hale¬ 
wijn  is  amusing  himself  with  sixteen  maids, 
or  to  that  effect,  but  to  the  mother  that  he  is 
dead,  and  she  has  his  head  in  her  lap.  The 
mother  angrily  replies,  in  B,  that  if  she  had 
given  this  information  earlier  she  would  not 
have  got  so  far  on  her  way  home.  The  maid 
retorts,  Wicked  woman,  you  are  lucky  not  to 
have  been  served  as  your  son  ;  then  rides, 
“  like  Judith  wise,”  straight  to  her  father’s 
palace,  where  she  blows  the  horn  blithely,  and 
is  received  with  honor  and  love  by  the  whole 
court. f 

Another  Flemish  version  (C)  has  been  late¬ 
ly  published  under  the  title,  ‘  Roland,’  by 
which  only,  we  are  informed,  is  this  particular 
form  known  in  Bruges  and  many  parts  of 

Snellaert’s.  So  Luise  v.  Ploennies,  Reiseerinnerungen  aus 
Belgien,  p.  38. 

Halewyn  makes  his  appearance  again  in  the  Flemish  bal¬ 
lad,  ‘  Halewyn  en  het  kleyne  Kind,’  Coussemaker,  No  46,  p. 
149  ;  Poesies  populaires  de  la  France,  vol.  i.  A  boy  of  seven 
years  has  shot  one  of  Halewyn’s  rabbits,  and  is  for  this 
condemned  to  be  hanged  on  the  highest  tree  in  the  park. 
The  father  makes  great  offers  for  his  ransom,  but  in  vain. 
On  the  first  step  of  the  ladder  the  child  looks  back  for  his 
mother,  on  the  second  for  his  father,  on  the  third  for  his 
brother,  on  the  fourth  for  his  sister,  each  of  whom  succes¬ 
sively  arrives  and  is  told  that  delay  would  have  cost  him 
his  life.  It  will  presently  be  seen  that  there  is  a  resemblance 
here  to  German  ballads  (G-X,  Z). 


4. 


26 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


Flanders  :  *  Chants  populaires  recueillis  a 
Bruges  par  Adolphe  Lootens  et  J.  M.  E.  Feys, 
No  37,  p.  60,  183  vv,  in  sixty-three  stanzas,  of 
two,  three,  four,  or  five  lines.  This  text  dates 
from  the  last  century,  and  is  given  with  the 
most  exact  fidelity  to  tradition.  It  agrees  with 
A  as  to  some  main  points,  but  differs  not  a 
little  as  to  others.  The  story  sets  out  thus: 

It  was  a  bold  Roland, 

He  loved  a  lass  from  England  ; 

He  wist  not  how  to  get  her, 

With  reading  or  with  writing, 

With  brawling  or  with  fighting. 

Roland  has  lost  Halewyn ’s  art  of  singing. 
Louise  asks  her  father  if  she  may  go  to  Roland, 
to  the  fair,  as  all  her  friends  do.  Her  father 
refuses :  Roland  is  “  een  stoute  kalant,”  a  bad 
fellow  that  betrays  pretty  maids;  he  stands 
with  a  drawn  sword  in  his  hand,  and  all  his 
soldiers  in  armor.  The  daughter  says  she  has 
seen  Roland  more  than  once,  and  that  the  tale 
about  the  drawn  sword  and  soldiers  is  not  true. 
This  scene  is  exactly  repeated  with  mother  and 
brother.  Louise  then  tries  her  shrift-father. 
He  is  easier,  and  does  not  care  where  she 
goes,  provided  she  keeps  her  houor  and  does 
not  shame  her  parents.  She  tells  father,  mother, 
and  brother  that  she  has  leave  from  her  con¬ 
fessor,  makes  her  toilet  as  in  A,  takes  the  finest 
horse  in  the  stable,  and  rides  to  the  wood. 
There  she  successively  meets  Roland’s  father, 
mother,  and  brother,  each  of  whom  asks  her 
where  she  is  going,  and  whether  she  has  any 
right  to  the  crown  she  wears.  To  all  she  re¬ 
plies,  Whether  I  have  or  not,  be  off ;  I  know 
you  not.  She  does  not  encounter  Roland  in 
the  wood,  they  do  not  ride  together,  and  there 
is  no  gallows-field.  She  enters  Roland’s  house, 
where  he  is  lying  abed.  He  bids  her  gather 

*  “La  chanson  de  Halewyn,  telle  a  peu  pres  que  la  donnent 
Willems,  Snellaert  et  de  Coussemaker,  se  vend  encore  sur 
le  marche  de  Bruges.  Quoiqu’elle  porte  pour  titre  Halewyn, 
jamais  notre  piece  n’a  ete  connue  ici  sous  ce  nom.  Le  nom 
de  Halewijn,  Alewijn  ou  Alwin  .  .  .  est  reserve  au  he'ros  de 
la  piece  suivante  ”  [Mi  Adel  en  Hir  Alewijn].  Lootens  et 
Feys,  p.  66.  “11  est  a  regretter  que  Willems  et  de  Cous¬ 
semaker  n’aient  pas  juge  a  propos  de  donner  cette  piece  telle 
que  le  peuple  l’a  conserve'e ;  on  serait  sans  aucun  doute  en 
possession  de  variantes  remarquables,  et  les  lacunes  qui  ex- 


three  rose- wreaths  “  at  his  hands  ”  and  three  at 
his  feet ;  but  when  she  approaches  the  foot  of 
the  bed  he  rises,  and  offers  her  the  choice  to 
lose  her  honor  or  kneel  before  the  sword.  She 
chooses  the  sword,  advises  him  to  spare  his 
coat,  and,  while  he  is  taking  it  off,  strikes  off 
his  head,  all  as  in  A.  The  head  speaks  :  Go 
under  the  gallows  (of  which  we  have  heard 
nothing  hitherto),  fetch  a  pot  of  salve,  rub 
it  on  my  wounds,  and  they  shall  straight  be 
well.  She  declines  to  follow  a  murderer’s 
rede,  or  to  learn  magic.  The  head  bids  her 
go  under  the  blue  stone  and  fetch  a  pot  of 
maidens-grease,  which  also  will  heal  the 
wounds.  This  again  she  refuses  to  do,  in  the 
same  terms ;  then  seizes  the  head  by  the  hair, 
washes  it  in  a  spring,  and  rides  off  with  it 
through  the  wood,  duly  meeting  Roland’s  fa¬ 
ther,  mother,  and  brother  once  more,  all  of 
whom  challenge  her,  and  to  all  of  whom  she 
answers, 

4 

Roland  your  son  is  long  ago  dead  ; 

God  has  his  soul  and  I  his  head ; 

For  in  my  lap  here  I  have  his  head, 

And  with  the  blood  my  apron  is  red. 

When  she  came  back  to  the  city  the  drums 
and  the  trumpets  struck  up.f  She  stuck  the 
head  out  of  the  window,  and  cried,  “  Now  I 
am  Roland’s  bride  !  ”  She  drew  it  in,  and 
cried,  “  Now  I  am  a  heroine  !  ” 

Danish.  Eleven  versions  of  this  ballad  are 
known  in  Danish,  seven  of  which  are  given  in 
Danmarks  gamle  Folkeviser,  No  183,  ‘  Kvin- 
demorderen,’  A-G.  Four  more,  H-L,  are  fur¬ 
nished  by  Kristen  sen,  Jydske  Folkeviser,  i, 
Nos  46,  47,  91 ;  n,  No  85.  A,  in  forty-one 
two-line  stanzas  (previously  printed  in  Grundt- 
vig’s  Engelske  og  skotske  Folkeviser,  p.  233), 
is  from  a  16th  century  MS. ;  B,  thirty  stanzas, 

istent  dans  notre  version  n’eussent  pas  manque  d’etre  com 
ble'es.  II  est  bon  d’insister  sur  la  remarque  faite  a  la  suite 
de  la  chanson,  qu’a  Bruges  et  dans  beaucoup  de  localite's  de 
la  Flandre,  elle  n’est  connue  que  sous  le  titre  de  Roland. 
Ajoutons  que  notre  texte  appartient  au  dernier  sieele.”  L. 
et  F.,  295. 

t  So  in  ‘  Liebe  ohne  Stand,’  one  of  the  mixed  forms  of 
the  German  ballad,  Wunderhorn,  Erk  I,  41,  Crecelius,  i,  36, 

Und  als  es  nun  kam  an  den  dritten  Tag, 

Da  gingen  die  Pfeiffen  und  Trommeln  au. 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


27 


C,  twenty-four,  D,  thirty-seven,  from  MSS  of 
the  17th  century  ;  E,  fifty-seven,  from  a  broad¬ 
side  of  the  end  of  the  18tli ;  F,  thirty,  from 
one  of  the  beginning  of  the  19th  ;  and  G-L, 
thirty-five,  twenty -three,  thirty-one, twenty-six, 
thirty-eight  stanzas,  from  recent  oral  tradition. 

The  four  older  versions,  and  also  E,  open 
with  some  lines  that  occur  at  the  beginning  of 
other  ballads.*  In  A  and  E,  and,  we  may  add, 
G,  the  maid  is  allured  by  the  promise  of  being 
taken  to  a  paradise  exempt  from  death  and 
sorrow ;  C,  D,  F  promise  a  train  of  handmaids 
and  splendid  presents.  All  the  versions  agree 
very  well  as  to  the  kernel  of  the  story.  A 
false  knight  prevails  upon  a  lady  to  elope 
with  him,  and  they  ride  to  a  wood  [they  sim¬ 
ply  meet  in  a  wood,  H,  EL].  He  sets  to  work 
digging  a  grave,  which  she  says  is  too  long 
for  his  [her]  dog  and  too  narrow  for  his  [her] 
horse  [all  but  F,  H].  She  is  told  that  the 
grave  is  for  her.  He  has  taken  away  the  life 
[and  honor,  B,  C,  I]  of  eight  maids,  and  she 
shall  be  the  ninth.  The  eight  maids  become 
nine  kings’  daughters  in  E,  ten  in  F,  nineteen 
in  G,  and  in  E  and  F  the  hard  choice  is  of¬ 
fered  of  death  by  sword,  tree,  or  stream.  In 
A,  E,  I,  L  the  knight  bids  the  lady  get  her 
gold  together  before  she  sets  out  with  him, 
and  in  D,  H,  K,  L  he  points  out  a  little  knoll 
under  which  he  keeps  the  gold  of  his  previous 
victims.  The  maid  now  induces  the  knight 
to  lie  down  with  his  head  in  her  lap,  profess¬ 
ing  a  fond  desire  to  render  him  the  most 
homely  of  services  f  [not  in  C,  G,  I,  K] .  He 
makes  an  express  condition  in  E,  F,  G,  H, 
L  that  she  shall  not  betray  him  in  his  sleep, 
and  she  calls  Heaven  to  witness  that  she  will 
not.  In  G  she  sings  him  to  sleep.  He  slept 
a  sleep  that  was  not  sweet.  She  binds  him 
hand  and  foot,  then  cries,  Wake  up  !  I  will 
not  betray  you  in  sleep. |  Eight  you  have 

*  E.  g.,  the  wonderland  in  A  2-6,  and  the  strict  watch 
kept  over  the  lady  in  7-10  are  repeated  in  ‘  Ribold  og  Guld- 
borg,’  Grundtvig,  82,  B  2-7,  8-11,  and  in  ‘Den  trofaste  Jom- 
fru,’  ib.  249,  A  3-6,  7-10.  The  watching  in  A,  B,  C  and 
the  proffered  gifts  of  C,  D,  F  are  found  in  ‘  Nokkens  Svig,’ 
Grundtvig,  39,  A,  B,  12-18.  The  disguise  in  A  11-14,  th§ 
rest  in  the  wood  with  the  knight's  head  in  the  lady’s  lap,  A 
16,  27,  B  11,  21,  D  14,  24,  Ell,  21,  etc.,  recur  in  Ribold, 


killed ;  yourself  shall  be  the  ninth.  En¬ 
treaties  and  fair  promises  and  pretences  that 
he  had  been  in  jest,  and  desire  for  shrift,  are 
in  vain.  Woman-fashion  she  drew  his  sword, 
but  man-fashion  she  cut  him  down.  She 
went  home  a  maid. 

E,  F,  G,  however,  do  not  end  so  simply. 
On  her  way  home  through  the  wood  [E],  she 
comes  upon  a  maid  who  is  working  gold,  and 
who  says,  The  last  time  I  saw  that  horse  my 
brother  rode  it.  She  answers,  Your  brother  is 
dead,  and  will  do  no  more  murdering  for  gold ; 
then  turns  her  horse,  and  sets  the  sister’s  bower 
on  fire.  Next  she  encounters  seven  robbers  on 
the  heath,  who  recognize  the  horse  as  their 
master’s,  and  are  informed  of  his  death  and  of 
the  end  of  his  crimes.  They  ask  about  the 
fire.  She  says  it  is  an  old  pig-sty.  She  rides 
on,  and  they  call  to  her  that  she  is  losing  her 
horse’s  gold  shoe.  But  nothing  can  stop  her  ; 
she  bids  them  pick  it  up  and  drink  it  in  wine  ; 
and  so  comes  home  to  her  father’s.  F  has 
nothing  of  the  sister ;  in  place  of  seven  rob¬ 
bers  there  are  nine  of  the  robber’s  brothers, 
and  the  maid  sets  their  house  on  fire.  G  in¬ 
dulges  kT'absurd  extravagances :  the  heroine 
meets  the  robber’s  sister  with  twelve  fierce 
dogs,  and  then  his  twelve  swains,  and  cuts 
down  both  dogs  and  swains. 

The  names  in  the  Danish  ballads  are,  A, 
Ulver  and  Ysenelil ;  B,  Olmor,  or  Oldemor, 
and  Vindelraad ;  C,  Hollemen  and  Vendel- 
raad  ;  D,  Romor,  Reimord,  or  Reimvord,  and 
the  maid  unnamed ;  F,  Herr  Peder  and  Liden 
Kirsten  ;  H-L,  Ribold,  Rigbold  [I,  Rimmelil] 
and  Guldborg. 

Four  Swedish  versions  are  known,  all  from 
tradition  of  this  century.  A,  ‘  Den  Falske 
Riddaren,’  twenty-three  two-line  stanzas,  Ar- 
widsson,  44  B,  I,  301.  B,  ‘  Rofvaren  Brun,’ 
fifteen  stanzas,  Afzelius,  83,  in,  97.  C,  twen- 

B  12-14,  L  9,  10,  M  19,  20,  N  11,  13,  P  12,  13.  These  re¬ 
semblances,  naturally,  are  not  limited  to  the  Danish  copies. 

t  So  the  princess  in  Asbjornsen  og  Moe,  N.  Folkeeventyr, 
p.  153.  Cf.  Campbell’s  Tales  of  the  West  Highlands,  in, 
209  ;  iv,  282,  283. 

1  The  binding  and  waking,  with  these  words,  are  found 
also  in  a  made-up  text  of  ‘  Fraendehaevn,’  Grundtvig,  No  4, 
C  51-53,  but  certainly  borrowed  from  some  copy  of  ‘  Kvinde- 
morderen.’ 


28 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


ty-seven  stanzas,  Arwidsson,  44  A,  I,  298.  D, 
4  Rofvaren  Rymer,’  sixteen  stanzas,  Afzelius, 
82,  in,  94.  A,  B,  D  have  resemblances,  at 
the  beginning,  to  the  Ribold  ballads,  like  the 
Danish  A,  B,  E,  G,  while  the  beginning  of  C 
is  like  the  Danish  C,  D,  F.  A  has  the  grave¬ 
digging  ;  there  have  been  eight  maids  before ; 
the  knight  lays  his  head  in  the  lady’s  lap  for 
the  same  reason  as  in  most  of  the  Danish 
ballads,  and  under  the  same  assurance  that  he 
shall  not  be  betrayed  in  sleep ;  he  is  bound, 
and  conscientiously  waked  before  his  head  is 
struck  off ;  and  the  lady  rides  home  to  her  fa¬ 
ther’s.  There  have  been  eight  previous  victims 
in  C,  and  they  king’s  daughters  ;  in  B,  eleven 
(maids)  ;  D  says  not  how  many,  but,  accord¬ 
ing  to  an  explanation  of  the  woman  that  sang 
it,  there  were  seven  princesses.  C,  D,  like 
Danish  E,  F,  G,  make  the  maid  encounter 
some  of  the  robber’s  family  on  the  way  home. 
By  a  misconception,  as  we  perceive  by  the 
Dutch  ballad,  she  is  represented  as  blowing 
the  robber’s  liorn.  Seven  sisters  come  at  the 
familiar  sound  to  bury  the  murdered  girl  and 
share  the  booty,  but  find  that  they  have  their 
brother  to  bury. 

The  woman  has  no  name  in  any  of  the  Swe¬ 
dish  ballads.  A  calls  the  robber  “  an  outland¬ 
ish  man”  (en  man  ifran  fremmande  land),  B, 
simple  Brun,  C,  a  knight,  and  D,  Riddaren 
Rymer,  or  Herr  Rymer. 

Of  Norwegian  versions,  but  two  have  been 
printed  :  A,  ‘  Svein  NorSmann,’  twenty  two- 
line  stanzas,  Landstad,  69,  p.  567  ;  B,  ‘  Rulle- 
mann  og  Hildeborg,’  thirty  stanzas,  Landstad, 
70,  p.  571,  both  from  recent  recitation.  Bugge 
has  communicated  eight  others  to  Grundtvig. 
Both  A  and  B  have  the  paradise  at  the  be¬ 
ginning,  which  is  found  in  Danish  A,  E,  G, 
and  Swedish  D.  In  both  the  lady  gets  her 
gold  together  while  the  swain  is  saddling  his 
horse.  They  come  to  a  grave  already  dug, 
which  in  B  is  said  to  be  made  so  very  wide 
because  Rulleman  has  already  laid  nine  maid¬ 
ens  in  it.  The  stanza  in  A  which  should 
give  the  number  is  lost,  but  the  reciter  or 
singer  put  it  at  seven  or  nine.  The  maid  gets 
the  robber  into  her  power  by  the  usual  arti¬ 
fice,  with  a  slight  variation  in  B.  According 


to  A,  she  x-ides  straight  home  to  her  father. 
B,  like  Danish  F,  has  an  encounter  with  her 
false  lover’s  [five]  brothers.  They  ask,  Where 
is  Rullemann,  thy  truelove  ?  She  answers, 
He  is  lying  down,  in  the  gi’een  mead,  and 
bloody  is  his  bridal  bed. 

Of  the  unprinted  versions  obtained  by  Pro¬ 
fessor  Bugge,  two  indicate  that  the  murderer’s 
sleep  was  induced  by  a  spell,  as  in  English  A. 
F  9  has, 

Long  time  stood  Gullbjor ;  to  herself  she  thought, 
May  none  of  my  runes  avail  me  ought  ? 

And  H  18,  as  also  a  variant  to  B  20,  says  it 
was  a  rune-slumber  that  came  over  him.  Only 

G,  H,  I,  K  give  the  number  of  the  murdered 
women  :  in  G,  H,  eight,  in  I,  nine,  in  K,  five. 

The  names  are,  in  A,  Svein  NorSmann  and 
GuSbjorg ;  B,  Rulleman  and  Hildeboi’g  [or 
Signe]  ;  C,  D,  E,  F,  Svein  Ndrmann  and  Gull¬ 
bjor  [Gunnbjor]  ;  G,  Rullemann  and  Kjersti; 

H,  Rullball  and  Signelill ;  I,  Alemarken  and 
Valerds  ;  K,  Rulemann  and  a  fair  maid. 

Such  information  as  has  transphed  concern¬ 
ing  Icelandic  versions  of  this  ballad  is  fur¬ 
nished  by  Gnxndtvig,  IY,  4.  The  Icelandic 
form,  though  curtailed  and  much  injured,  has 
shown  tenacity  enough  to  preserve  itself  in  a 
series  of  closely  agx*eeing  copies  from  the  17th 
century  down.  The  eldest,  from  a  manuscript 
of  1665,  runs  thus  : 

1  Asa  went  along  the  street,  she  heard  a  sweet 

sound. 

2  Asa  went  into  the  house,  she  saw  the  villain 

bound. 

3  ‘  Little  Asa,  loose  me  !  I  will  not  beguile  thee.’ 

4  ‘  I  dare  not  mose  thee,  I  know  not  whether 

thou  ’It  beguile  me.’ 

5  ‘  God  almighty  take  note  who  deceives  the 

other !  ’ 

6  She  loosed  the  bands  from  his  hand,  the  fetter 

from  his  foot. 

7  ‘  Nine  lands  have  I  visited,  ten  women  I ’ve 

beguiled  ; 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


29 


8  4  Thou  art  now  the  eleventh,  I  ’ll  not  let  thee 

slip.’ 

A  copy,  from  the  beginning  of  the  18th 
century,  lias,  in  stanza  2,  “Asa  went  into  the 
wood ,”  a  recent  copy,  “over  the  fields  ;  ”  and 
stanza  8,  in  the  former,  with  but  slight  dif¬ 
ferences  in  all  the  modern  copies,  reads, 

‘  Welcome  art  thou,  Asa  maid !  thou  wilt  mean  to 

loose  me.’ 

Some  recent  copies  (there  is  one  in  Berggreen, 
Danske  Folkesange,  2d  ed.,  i,  162)  allow  the 
maid  to  escape,  adding, 

9  4  Wait  for  me  a  little  space,  whilst  I  go  into  the 

green  wood.’ 

10  He  waited  for  her  a  long  time,  but  she  never 

came  back  to  him. 

11  Asa  took  her  white  steed,  of  all  women  she  rode 

most. 

12  Asa  went  into  a  holy  cell,  never  did  she  harm 

to  man. 

This  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  important 
of  the  German  ballads,  and  additions  are  con¬ 
stantly  making  to  a  large  number  of  known 
versions.  Excepting  two  broadsides  of  about 
1560,  and  two  copies  from  recitation  printed 
in  1778,  all  these,  twenty-six  in  number,  have 
been  obtained"  from  tradition  since  1800.* 
They  are  as  follows  :  A  a,  ‘  Gert  Olbert,’ 4  Die 
Morners  Sang,’  in  Low  German,  as  written 
down  by  William  Grimm,  in  the  early  years 
of  this  century,  61  vv,  Reifferscheid,  p.  161,  II. 
A  b,  “  from  the  Munster  region,”  communi¬ 
cated  to  Uhland  by  the  Baroness  Annette  von 
Droste-Hullshof,  46  vv,  Uhland,  I,  151,  No 
74  C;  repeated  in  Mittler,  No  79.  A  c,  a 
fragment  from  the  same  source  as  the  preced¬ 
ing,  and  written  down  at  the  beginning  of  this 
century,  35  vv,  Reifferscheid,  p.  161,  I.  B,  4  Es 
wollt  sich  ein  Markgraf  ausreiten,’  from  Bok- 
endorf,  Westphalia,  as  taken  down  by  W. 
Grimm,  in  1813,  41  vv,  Reifferscheid,  p.  116. 
C  a, 4  Die  Gerettete,’ 44  from  the  Lower  Rhine,” 
twenty-six  two-line  stanzas,  Zuccalmaglio,  No 

*  All  the  German  versions  appear  to  have  been  originally 
in  the  two-line  stanza. 


28,  p.  66 ;  Mittler,  No  85.  C  b,  eleven  two- 
line  stanzas,  Montanus  (=  Zuccalmaglio)  Die 
deutschen  Volksfeste,  p.  45.  D,  4  Von  einem 
wackern  Miigdlein,  Odiliageheissen,’  etc.,  from 
the  Rhine,  34  vv  [Longard],  No  24,  p.  48. 

E,  4  Schondilie,’  Menzenberg  and  Breitbach, 
59  vv,  Simrock,  No  7,  p.  19  ;  Mittler,  No  86. 

F,  4  Jungfrau  Linnich,’  communicated  by  Zuc¬ 
calmaglio  as  from  the  Rhine  region,  Berg  and 
Mark,  fourteen  two-line  stanzas,  Erlach,  iv, 
598,  and  Kretzsclimer  (nearly),  No  92,  p.  164  ; 
Mittler,  No  87.  G  a,  4  Ulinger,’  120  vv,  Nu¬ 
remberg  broadside  44  of  about  1555  ”  (Bohme) 
in  Wunderhorn,  ed.  1857,  iv,  101,  Bolnne, 
No  13a,  p.  56.  G  b  c,  Basel  broadsides,  44  of 
about  1570”  (Bolnne),  and  of  1605,  in  LTh- 
land,  No  74  A,  I,  141  ;  Mittler,  No  77.  H, 
4  Adelger,’  120  vv,  an  Augsburg  broadside, 44  of 
about  1560”  (Bohme),  Uhland,  No  74  B,  i, 
146;  Bohme,  No  13b,  p.  58  ;  Mittler,  No  76. 
I,  4  Der  Brautmorder,’  in  the  dialect  of  the 
Kuhlandchen  (Northeast  Moravia  and  Aus¬ 
trian  Silesia),  87  vv,  Meinert,  p.  61  ;  Mittler, 
No  80.  J,  4  Annele,’  Swabian,  from  Hirrlin- 
gen  and  Obernau,  80  vv,  Meier,  Schwabische 
V.  L.,  No  168,  p.  298.  K,  another  Swabian 
version,  from  Hirrlingen,  Immenried,  and  many 
other  localities,  80  vv,  Scherer,  Jungbrunnen, 
No  5  B,  p.  25.  L  a,  from  the  Swabian-Wur- 
temberg  border,  81  vv,  Birlinger,  Schwabisch- 
Augsburgisches  Worterbuch,  p.  458.  L  b, 
[Birlinger],  Schwabische  V.  L.,  p.  159,  from 
Immenried,  nearly  word  for  word  the  same. 
M, 4  Der  falsche  Sanger,’  40  vv,  Meier,  No  167, 
p.  296.  N,  4  Es  reitets  ein  Ritter  durch  Haber 
und  Klee,’  43  vv,  a  fifth  Swabian  version,  from 
Hirrlingen,  Meier,  p.  302.  O,  4  Alte  Ballade 
die  in  Entlebuch  noch  gesungen  wird,’  twenty- 
three  double  stanzas,  in  the  local  dialect, 
Schweizerbliitter  von  Henne  und  Reithard, 
1833,  nr  Jahrgang,  210-12.  P,  4  Das  Gug- 
gibader-Lied,’  twenty-one  treble  stanzas  (23  ?), 
in  the  Aargau  dialect,  Rochholz,  Schweizer- 
sagen  aus  dem  Aargau,  I,  24.  Q,  4  Es  sitzt 
gut  Ritter  auf  und  ritt,’  a  copy  taken  down  in 
1815  by  J.  Grimm,  from  the  recitation  of  a 
lady  who  had  heard  it  as  a  child  in  German 
Bohemia,  74  vv,  Reifferscheid,  p.  162.  R,  4  Bie 
write  i^t  auv  der  rittersman,’  in  the  dialect  of 


30 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


Gottschee,  Carniola,  86  vv,  Schroer,  Sitzungs- 
bericlite  der  Wiener  Ak.,  pbil-hist.  Cl,  lx,  462. 
S,  ‘  Das  Lied  von  dem  falschen  Rittersmann,’ 
60  tv,  from  Styria,  Rosegger  and  Heuberger, 
Yolkslieder  aus  Steiermark,  No  19,  p.  17.  T, 
‘  Ulrich  und  Annchen,’  *  49  vv,  Herder’s  Volks- 
lieder,  1778, 1,  79 ;  Mittler,  No  78.  U,  ‘  Schon 
Ulrich  und  Roth-Aennchen,’  46  vv,  in  Tasch- 
enbnch  fiir  Dichter  und  Dichterfreunde,  Abtli. 
viii,  126,  1778,  from  Upper  Lusatia  (slightly 
altered  by  the  contributor,  Meissner)  ;  Mittler, 
No  84.  A  copy  from  Kapsdorf,  in  Hoffmann 
and  Richter’s  Schlesische  V.  L.,  No  13,  p.  27, 
is  the  same,  differing  by  only  three  words.  V, 
‘  Sclion-Aennelein,’  54  vv,  from  the  eastern 
part  of  Brandenburg,  Erk  u.  Irmer,  6th  Heft, 
p.  64,  No  56  (stanzas  4-8  from  the  preceding). 
W,  ‘  Schon  Ullerich  und  Hanselein,’  twenty- 
nine  two-line  stanzas,  from  the  neighborhood 
of  Breslau,  in  Grater’s  Idunna  und  Hermode, 
No  35,  Aug.  29,  1812,  following  p.  140.  The 
same  in  Schlesische  Y.  L.,  No  12,  p.  23,  ‘  Schon 
Ulrich  u.  Rautendelein,’  with  a  stanza  (12) 
inserted ;  and  Mittler,  No  81.  X,  ‘  Der  Al¬ 
brecht  u.  der  Hanselein,’  42  vv,  from  Natan- 
gen,  East  Prussia,  in  Neue  preussisclie  Pro- 
vinzial-Blatter,  2d  series,  IH,  158,  No  8.  Y, 
‘  Ulrich  u.  Annie,’  nineteen  two-line  stanzas, 
a  second  Kuhlandchen  version,  Meinert,  p.  66  ; 
Mittler,  No  83.  Z  a,  ‘Yon  einem  frechen 
Rauber,  Herr  Ulricli  geheissen,’  nineteen  two- 
line  stanzas,  from  the  Rhine  [Longard],  No  23, 
p.  46.  Z  b,  ‘  Ulrich,’  as  sung  on  the  Lower 
Rhine,  the  same  ballad,  with  unimportant  ver¬ 
bal  differences,  and  the  insertion  of  one  stanza 
(7,  the  editor’s  ?),  Zuccalmaglio,  No  15,  p.  39  ; 
Mittler,  No  82. 

The  German  ballads,  as  Grundtvig  has 
pointed  out,  divide  into  three  well-marked 
classes.  The  first  class,  embracing  the  ver¬ 
sions  A-F  (6),  and  coming  nearest  to  English 
and  Dutch  tradition,  has  been  found  along 
the  lower  half  of  the  Rhine  and  in  Westpha¬ 
lia,  or  in  Northwest  Germany ;  the  second, 
including  G-S  (13),  is  met  with  in  Swabia, 
Switzerland,  Bohemia,  Moravia,  Styria,  Car- 

*  The  copies  with  this  title  in  Simrock,  No  6,  p.  15,  and 
in  Scherer’s  Jungbrunnen,  No  5  A,  and  his  Deutsche  V.  L., 
1851,  p.  349,  are  compounded  from  various  texts. 


niola,  or  in  South  Germany  ;  the  third,  T-Z 
(7),  in  East  Prussia,  the  eastern  part  of  Bran¬ 
denburg  and  of  Saxony,  Silesia,  and,  again, 
Moravia,  or,  roughly  speaking,  in  North  and 
East  Germany  ;  but,  besides  the  Moravian, 
there  is  also  of  this  third  class  one  version,  in 
two  copies,  from  the  Rhine. 

(I.)  A  runs  thus.  She  that  would  ride  out 
with  Gert  Olbert  must  dress  in  silk  and  gold. 
When  fair  Helena  had  so  attired  herself,  she 
called  from  her  window,  Gert  Olbert,  come 
and  fetch  the  bride.  He  took  her  by  her 
silken  gown  and  swung  her  on  behind  him, 
and  they  rode  three  days  and  nights.  Helena 
then  said,  We  must  eat  and  drink;  but  Gert 
Olbert  said,  We  must  go  on  further.  They 
rode  over  the  green  heath,  and  Helena  once 
more  tenderly  asked  for  refreshment.  Under 
yon  fir  [linden],  said  Gert  Olbert,  and  kept 
on  till  they  came  to  a  green  spot,  where  nine 
maids  were  hanging.  Then  it  was,  Wilt 
thou  choose  the  fir-tree,  the  running  stream, 
or  the  naked  sword?  She  chose  the  sword, 
but  begged  him  to  take  off  his  silken  coat, 
“  for  a  maid’s  blood  spirts  far,  and  I  should  be 
sorry  to  spatter  it.”  While  he  was  engaged 
in  drawing  off  his  coat,  she  cut  off  his  head. 
But  still  the  false  tongue  spoke.  It  bade  her 
blow  in  his  horn  ;  then  she  would  have  com¬ 
pany  enough.  She  was  not  so  simple  as  to  do 
this.  She  rode  three  days  and  nights,  and 
blew  the  horn  when  she  reached  her  father’s 
castle.  Then  all  the  murderers  came  running, 
like  hounds  after  a  hare.  Frau  Clara  [Jutte] 
called  out,  Where  is  my  son  ?  Under  the  fir- 
tree,  sporting  with  nine  maids  ;  he  meant  me 
to  be  the  tenth,  said  Helena. 

B  is  the  same  story  told  of  a  margrave  and 
Fair  Annie,  but  some  important  early  stanzas 
are  lost,  and  the  final  ones  have  suffered  in¬ 
jury  ;  for  the  ballad  ends  with  this  conceit, 
“  She  put  the  horn  to  her  mouth,  and  blew  the 
margrave  quite  out  of  her  heart.”  Here,  by  a 
transference  exceedingly  common  in  tradition, 
it  is  the  man,  and  not  the  maid,  that  “  would 
ride  in  velvet  and  silk  and  red  gold.” 

C  a  has  the  names  Odilia  and  Hilsinger, 
a  trooper  (reiter).  Odilia  was  early  left  an 
orphan,  and  as  she  grew  up  “  she  grew  into 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


31 


the  trooper’s  bosom.”  lie  offered  her  seven 
pounds  of  gold  to  be  his,  and  “  she  thought 
seven  pounds  of  gold  a  good  thing.”  We  now 
fall  into  the  track  of  A.  Odilia  dresses  her¬ 
self  like  a  bride,  and  calls  to  the  trooper  to 
come  and  get  her.  They  ride  first  to  a  high 
hill,  where  she  asks  to  eat  and  drink,  and  then 
go  on  to  a  linden-tree,  on  which  seven  maids 
are  hanging.  The  choice  of  three  deaths  is 
offered,  the  sword  chosen,  he  is  entreated  to 
spare  his  coat,  she  seizes  his  sword  and  hews 
off  his  head.  The  false  tongue  suggests  blow¬ 
ing  the  horn.  Odilia  thinks  “  much  biding 
or  blowing  is  not  good.”  She  rides  away,  and 
presently  meets  the  trooper’s  “little  foot-page  ” 
(bot),  who  fancies  she  has  Hilsinger’s  horse 
and  sword.  “  He  sleeps,”  she  says,  “  with 
seven  maids,  and  thought  I  was  to  be  the 
eighth.”  This  copy  concludes  with  a  mani¬ 
festly  spurious  stanza.  C  b  agrees  with  C  a 
for  ten  stanzas,  as  to  the  matter,  and  so  far 
seems  to  be  C  a  improved  by  Zuccalmaglio, 
with  such  substitutions  as  a  princely  castle 
for  “  seven  pounds  of  gold.”  The  last  stanza 
(11), 

Und  als  die  Sternlein  am  Hiinmel  klar, 

Ottilia  die  aehte  der  Todten  war, 

was,  no  doubt,  suggested  by  the  last  of  F,  an¬ 
other  of  Zuccalmaglio’s  versions,  and,  if  genu¬ 
ine,  would  belong  to  a  ballad  of  the  third  class. 

D  has  the  name  Odilia  for  the  maid,  but  the 
knight,  or  trooper,  has  become  expressly  a 
robber  (ritter,  reiter,  rauber).  They  ride  to 
a  green  heath,  where  there  is  a  cool  spring. 
Odilia  asks  for  and  gets  a  draught  of  water, 
and  is  told  that  at  the  linden-tree  there  will 
be  eating  and  drinking  for  them.  And  when 
they  come  to  the  linden,  there  hang  six,  seven 
maids  !  All  proceeds  as  before.  The  talking 
head  is  lost.  Odilia  meets  the  robber’s  mother, 
and  makes  the  usual  reply.* 

*  Both  D  and  E  have  attached  to  them  this  final  stanza : 

‘  Odilia,  why  are  thy  shoes  so  red  ?  ’ 

‘  It  is  three  doves  that  I  shot  dead.’ 

This  is  a  well-known  commonplace  in  tragic  ballads ;  and 
Gruudtvig  suggests  that  this  stanza  was  the  occasion  of  the 
story  taking  the  turn  which  we  find  in  ballads  of  the  third 
class. 


E  resembles  C  closely.  Odilia  becomes 
Schondilg  (Schon  Odilie),  Rauber  returns  to 
Ritter,  or  Reiter,  and  the  servant-maid  bribe 
of  seven  pounds  of  gold  rises  to  ten  tons.f 
Schondilg’s  toilet,  preparatory  to  going  off 
(6-8),  is  described  with  a  minuteness  that  we 
find  only  in  the  Dutch  ballad  (12-16).  After 
this,  there  is  no  important  variation.  She 
meets  the  trooper’s  three  brothers,  and  makes 
the  same  replies  to  them  as  to  the  mother 
in  D. 

F.  The  personages  here  are  Linnich  (i.  e., 
Nellie)  and  a  knight  from  England.  The  first 
twelve  stanzas  do  not  diverge  from  C,  D,  E. 
In  stanza  13  we  find  the  knight  directing  the 
lady  to  strip  off  her  silk  gown  and  gold  neck¬ 
lace,  as  in  the  English  C,  D,  E  ;  but  certainly 
this  inversion  of  the  procedure  which  obtains 
in  German  C,  D,  E  is  an  accident  arising 
from  confused  recollection.  The  14th  and 
last  stanza  similarly  misunderstands  the  maid's 
feigned  anxiety  about  the  knight’s  fine  coat, 
and  brings  the  ballad  to  a  false  close,  resem¬ 
bling  the  termination  of  those  of  the  third 
class,  still  more  those  of  certain  mixed  forms 
to  be  spoken  of  presently. 

(II.)  The  second  series,  G-S,  has  three  or 
four  traits  that  are  not  found  in  the  foregoing 
ballads.  G,  which,  as  well  as  H,  was  in  print 
more  than  two  hundred  years  before  any  other 
copy  is  known  to  have  been  taken  down,  be¬ 
gins,  like  the  Dutch  Halewijn,  with  a  knight 
(Ulinger)  singing  so  sweetly  that  a  maid 
(Fridburg)  is  filled  with  desire  to  go  off  with 
him.  He  promises  to  teach  her  his  art.  This 
magical  song  is  wanting  only  in  R,  of  class 
II,  and  the  promise  to  teach  it  only  in  Q,  R. 
She  attires  herself  splendidly ;  he  swings  her 
on  to  his  horse  behind  him,  and  they  ride  to  a 
wood.  When  they  came  to  the  wood  there 
was  no  one  there  but  a  white  dove  on  a  hazel- 
bush,  that  sang,  Listen,  Fridburg:  Ulinger 

t  One  scarcely  knows  whether  this  bribe  is  an  imperfect 
reminiscence  of  splendid  promises  which  the  knight  makes, 
e.  g.,  in  the  Danish  ballads,  or  a  shifting  from  the  maid  to 
the  knight  of  the  gold  which  the  elsewhere  opulent  or  well- 
to-do  maid  gets  together  while  the  knight  is  preparing  to  set 
forth  ;  or  simply  one  of  those  extravagances  which  so  often 
make  their  appearance  in  later  versions  of  ballads. 


32 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


has  hanged  eleven  *  maids  ;  the  twelfth  is  in 
his  clutches.  Fridburg  asked  what  the  dove 
was  saying.  Ulinger  replied,  It  takes  me  for 
another ;  it  lies  in  its  red  bill ;  and  rode  on 
till  it  suited  him  to  alight.  He  spread  his 
cloak  on  the  grass,  and  asked  her  to  sit  down  : 

Er  sprach  sie  solt  ihm  lausen, 

Sein  gelbes  Haar  zerzausen.f 

Looking  up  into  her  eyes,  he  saw  tears,  and 
asked  why  she  was  weeping.  Was  it  for  her 
sorry  husband  ?  Not  for  her  sorry  husband, 
she  said.  But  here  some  stanzas,  which  be¬ 
long  to  another  ballad,  $  have  crept  in,  and  she 
is,  with  no  reason,  made  to  ride  further  on. 
She  comes  to  a  lofty  fir,  and  eleven  maids 
hanging  on  it.  She  wrings  her  hands  and  tears 
her  hair,  and  implores  Ulinger  to  let  her  be 
hanged  in  her  clothes  as  she  is. 

‘  Ask  me  not  that,  Fridburg,’  he  said  ; 

‘  Ask  me  not  that,  thou  good  young  maid  ; 

Thy  scarlet  mantle  and  kirtle  black 
Will  well  become  my  young  sister’s  back.’ 

Then  she  begs  to  be  allowed  three  cries. 

‘  So  much  I  may  allow  thee  well, 

Thou  art  so  deep  within  the  dell ; 

So  deep  within  the  dell  we  lie, 

No  man  can  ever  hear  thy  cry.’ 

She  cries,  “  Help,  Jesu  !  ”  “  Help,  Mary  !  ” 
“  Help,  dear  brother !  ” 

‘  For  if  thou  come  not  straight, 

For  my  life ’t  will  be  too  late  !  ’ 

Her  brother  seems  to  hear  his  sister’s  voice 
“  in  every  sense.” 

He  let  his  falcon  fly, 

Rode  off  with  hounds  in  full  cry  ; 

With  all  the  haste  he  could 
He  sped  to  the  dusky  wood. 

*  The  number  eleven  is  remarkably  constant  in  the  Ger¬ 
man  ballads,  being  found  in  G,  H,  J-L,  N-W ;  it  is  also  the 
number  in  Swedish  B.  Eight  is  the  favorite  number  in  the 
North,  and  occurs  in  Danish  A-D,  H-L,  Swedish  A,  C, 
Norwegian  G,  H  ;  again  in  German  I.  German  Dan¬ 

ish  F,  have  ten  ;  German  A,  B,  Danish  E,  Norwegian  I, 
have  nine ;  German  C,  D,  seven ;  Danish  G  has  nineteen. 


‘  What  dost  thou  here,  my  Ufinger  ? 

What  dost  thou  here,  my  master  dear  ?  ’ 

1  Twisting  a  withe,  and  that  is  all, 

To  make  a  halter  for  my  foal.’ 

‘  Twisting  a  withe,  and  that  is  all, 

To  make  a  halter  for  thy  foal ! 

I  swear  by  my  troth  thus  shall  it  be, 

Thyself  shalt  be  the  foal  for  me.’ 

‘  Then  this  I  beg,  my  Fridburger, 

Then  this  I  beg,  my  master  dear, 

That  thou  wilt  let  me  hang 
In  my  clothes  as  now  I  stand.’ 

‘  Ask  me  not  that,  thou  Ulinger, 

Ask  me  not  that,  false  perjurer ; 

Thy  scarlet  mantle  and  jerkin  black 
Will  well  become  my  scullion’s  back.’ 

His  shield  before  his  breast  he  slung, 

Behind  him  his  fair  sister  swung, 

And  so  he  hied  away 

Where  his  father’s  kingdom  lay. 

H,  the  nearly  contemporaneous  Augsburg 
broadside,  differs  from  G  in  only  one  impor¬ 
tant  particular.  The  “  reuter  ”  is  Adelger, 
the  lady  unnamed.  A  stanza  is  lost  between 
6  and  7,  which  should  contain  the  warning 
of  the  dove,  and  so  is  Adelger’s  version  of 
what  the  bird  had  'said.  The  important  fea¬ 
ture  in  H,  not  present  in  G,  is  that  the  halt  is 
made  near  a  spring,  about  which  blood  is 
streaming,  “  der  war  mit  blut  umbrunnenn.” 
This  adds  a  horror  to  this  powerful  scene 
which  well  suits  with  it.  When  the  maid  be¬ 
gins  to  weep,  Adelger  asks  whether  her  tears 
are  for  her  father’s  land,  or  because  she  dis¬ 
likes  him  so  much.  It  is  for  neither  reason, 
but  because  on  yon  fir  she  sees  eleven  maids 
hanging.  He  confirms  her  fears  : 

1  Ah,  thou  fair  young  lady  fine, 

0  palsgravine,  O  empress  mine, 

French  A,  B  have  fourteen,  fifteen,  Italian  ballads  still 
higher  numbers  :  A,  B,  C,  thirty-six,  D,  fifty-two,  E,  thirty- 
three,  F,  three  hundred  and  three. 

t  This  stroke  of  realism  fails  only  in  M,  N,  R,  of  this 
second  class. 

f  Apparently  to  a  Ribold  ballad,  of  which  no  other  trace 
has  been  found  in  German.  See  further  on  in  this  volume. 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


33 


Adelger ’s  killed  his  eleven  before, 

Thou  ’It  be  the  twelfth,  of  that  be  sure.’  * 

The  last  two  lines  seem,  by  their  form,  to 
be  the  dove’s  warning  that  has  dropped  out 
between  stanzas  6  and  7.  The  maid's  clothes 
in  H  are  destined  to  be  the  perquisite  of  Adel- 
ger’s  mother,  and  the  brother  says  that  Adel- 
ger’s  are  to  go  to  his  shield-bearer.  The  un¬ 
happy  maid  cries  but  twice,  to  the  Virgin  and 
to  her  brother.  When  surprised  by  the  broth¬ 
er,  Adelger  feigns  to  be  twisting  a  withe  for 
his  falcon. 

I  begins,  like  G,  H,  with  the  knight’s  se¬ 
ductive  song.  Instead  of  the  dove  directly 
warning  the  maid,  it  upbraids  the  man  : 
“  Whither  now,  thou  Ollegehr  ?  f  Eight  hast 
thou  murdered  already ;  and  now  for  the 
ninth  !  ”  The  maid  asks  what  the  dove  means, 
and  is  told  to  ride  on,  and  not  mind  the  dove, 
who  takes  him  for  another  man.  There  are 
eight  maids  in  the  fir.  Theories  are  to  Jesus, 
Mary,  and  her  brothers,  one  of  whom  hastens 
to  the  rescue.  He  is  struck  with  the  beauty 
of  his  sister’s  attire,  —  her  velvet  dress,  her 
virginal  crown,  “  which  you  shall  wear  many 
a  year  yet.”  So  saying,  he  draws  his  sword, 
and  whips  off  his  “brother-in-law’s”  head, 
with  this  epicedium : 

‘  Lie  there,  thou  head,  and  bleed, 

Thou  never  didst  good  deed. 

‘  Lie  there,  thou  head,  and  rot, 

No  man  shall  mourn  thy  lot. 

‘  No  one  shall  ever  be  sorry  for  thee 

But  the  small  birds  on  the  greenwood  tree.’  $ 

In  J,  again,  the  knight  comes  riding  through 

*  13  ‘  Ach  du  schone  junkfraw  fein, 

Du  pfalzgravin,  du  kaiserin  ! 

Der  Adelger  hat  sich  vor  ailf  getddt, 

Du  wirst  die  zwolft,  das  sei  dir  gsait. 

15  ‘  So  bitt  mich  nit,  du  junkfraw  fein, 

So  bitt  mich  nit,  du  herzigs  ein  !  ’ 

The  lieblcosung  of  this  niurder-reeking  Adelger,  o’ersized 
with  coagulate  gore,  is  admirably  horrible. 

t  Nimmersatt  (All-begehrend)  as  interpreted  by  Meinert, 
not  Adelger. 

t  Verses  which  recur,  nearly,  not  only  in  Y  17-19,  W 
27,  28,  but  elsewhere,  as  in  a  copy  of  ‘  Graf  Friedrich/  Erk’s 
Liederhort,  p.  41,  No  15,  st.  19. 

5 


the  reeds,  and  sings  such  a  song  that  Brown 
Annele,  lying  under  the  casement,  exclaims, 
“  Could  I  but  sing  like  him,  I  would  give  my 
troth  and  my  honor  !  ”  There  are,  by  mistake, 
two  §  doves  in  stanza  4,  that  warn  Annele  not 
to  be  beguiled,  but  this  error  is  set  right  in  the 
next  stanza.  When  she  asks  what  the  dove 
is  cooing,  the  answer  is,  “It  is  cooing  about 
its  red  foot ;  it  went  barefoot  all  winter.”  We 
have  here  again,  as  in  H,  the  spring  in  the 
wood,  “  mit  Blute  umrunnen,”  and  the  lady 
asks  again  the  meaning  of  the  bloody  spring. 
The  knight  replies,  in  a  stanza  which  seems 
both  corrupted  and  out  of  place,  “  This  is 
where  the  eleven  pure  virgins  perished.”  Then 
follow  the  same  incidents  as  in  G-I.  He  says 
she  must  hang  with  the  eleven  in  the  fir,  and 
be  queen  over  all.  Her  cries  are  for  her  fa¬ 
ther,  for  Our  Lady,  and  for  her  brother,  who 
is  a  hunter  in  the  forest.  The  hunter  makes 
all  haste  to  his  sister,  twists  a  withe,  and 
hangs  the  knight  without  a  word  between 
them,  then  takes  his  sister  by  the  hand  and 
conducts  her  home,  with  the  advice  never 
more  to  trust  a  knight :  for  all  which  she  re¬ 
turns  her  devout  thanks.  || 

K  and  L  are  of  the  same  length  and  the 
same  tenor  as  J.  There  are  no  names  in  L  ; 
in  K  both  Annele  and  Ulrich,  but  the  latter 
is  very  likely  to  have  been  inserted  by  the 
editor.  K,  L  have  only  one  dove,  and  in 
neither  does  the  lady  ask  the  meaning  of  the 
dove’s  song.  The  knight  simply  says,  “  Be 
still ;  thou  liest  in  thy  throat !  ”  Both  have 
the  bloody  spring,  but  out  of  place,  for  it  is 
very  improperly  spoken  of  by  the  knight  as 
the  spot  he  is  making  for  : 

§  There  is  no  sense  in  two  doves.  The  single  dove  one 
may  suppose  to  be  the  spirit  of  the  last  victim.  We  shall 
find  the  eleven  appearing  as  doves  in  Q.  There  is  no  occa¬ 
sion  to  regard  the  dove  here  as  a  Waldminne  ( Vilmar,  Hand- 
biichlein  fur  Freunde  des  deutschen  Volkslieds,  p.  57).  Cf. 
the  nightingale  (and  two  nightingales)  in  the  Danish  ‘  Red- 
selille  og  Medelvold  :  ’  see  ‘  Leesome  Brand/  further  on  in 
this  volume. 

||  This  ballad  has  become,  in  Tubingen,  a  children’s  game, 
called  ‘Bertha  im  Wald.’  The  three  cries  are  preserved  in 
verse,  and  very  nearly  as  in  J,  M.  The  game  concludes  by 
the  robber  smothering  Bertha.  Meier,  Deutsche  Kinder- 
Reime,  No  439. 


34 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


‘  Wir  wollen  ein  wenig  weiter  vorwarts  faren, 

Bis  zu  einem  kiiklen  Waldbrunncn, 

Der  ist  mit  Blut  iiberronnen.’  * 

L  26-28,  17-19. 

The  three  cries  are  for  father,  mother, 
brother.  In  K  the  brother  fights  with  “  Ul¬ 
rich  ”  two  hours  and  a  half  before  he  can  mas¬ 
ter  him,  then  despatches  him  with  his  two- 
edged  sword,  and  hangs  him  in  a  withe.  He 
fires  his  rifle  in  L,  to  announce  his  coming, 
and  hears  his  sister’s  laugh  ;  then  stabs  the 
knight  through  the  heart.  The  moral  of  J  is 
repeated  in  both  :  Stay  at  home,  and  trust  no 
knight. 

M  smacks  decidedly  of  the  bankelsanger, 
and  has  an  appropriate  moral  at  the  tail: 
animi  index  cauda !  The  characters  are  a 
cavalier  and  a  girl,  both  nameless,  and  a 
brother.  The  girl,  hearing  the  knight  sing 
“  ein  Liedchen  von  dreierlei  Stimmen,”  which 
should  seem  to  signify  a  three-part  song,  says, 
“  Ah,  could  I  sing  like  him,  I  would  straight¬ 
way  give  him  my  honor.”  They  ride  to  the 
wood,  and  come  upon  a  hazel-bush  with  three 
doves,  one  of  which  informs  the  maid  that 
she  will  be  betrayed,  the  second  that  she  will 
die  that  day,  and  the  third  that  she  will  be 
buried  in  the  wood.  The  second  and  third 
doves,  as  being  false  prophets,  and  for  other 
reasons,  may  safely  be  pronounced  intruders. 
All  is  now  lost  till  we  come  to  the  cries,  which 
are  addressed  to  father,  mother,  and  brother. 
The  brother  stabs  the  traitor  to  the  heart. f 
N  is  as  short  as  M,  and,  like  it,  has  no 
names,  but  has  all  the  principal  points :  the 

*  K,  or  the  editor,  seeks  to  avoid  the  difficulty  by  taking 
the  last  line  from  the  knight,  and  reading,  “  Mit  Blut  war 
er  umronnen,”  an  emendation  not  according  with  the  sim¬ 
plicity  of  ballads.  Another  Swabian  copy,  Meier,  p.  301, 
note,  strophe  6,  has  : 

‘  Wir  miissen  zu  selbigem  Bronnen 
Wo  Wasser  und  Blut  heraus  ronnen.’ 

t  The  last  verses  are  these,  and  not  very  much  worse  than 
the  rest : 

Mein  Bruder  ist  ein  Jagersmann, 

Der  alle  Thierlein  schiessen  kann  ; 

Er  hatt’  ein  zweischneidiges  Schwerte, 

Und  stack  es  dem  Falschen  ins  Herze. 

Ihr  Madchen  alle  insgemein, 

Lasst  euch  doch  diess  zur  Warming  sein, 

Und  geht  doch  mit  keinem  so  falschen 
In  einen  so  finsteren  Walde. 


fascinating  song,  the  dove  on  the  bush,  eleven 
maids  in  the  fir,  the  three  cries,  and  the  res¬ 
cue  by  the  huntsman-brother,  who  cocks  his 
gun  and  shoots  the  knight.  The  reciter  of 
this  ballad  gave  the  editor  to  understand  that 
if  the  robber  had  succeeded  in  his  twelfth 
murder,  he  would  have  attained  such  powers 
that  nobody  after  that  could  harm  him.ij: 

O  is  a  fairly  well-preserved  ballad,  resem¬ 
bling  G-J  as  to  the  course  of  the  story.  An- 
neli,  lying  under  the  casement,  hears  the 
knight  singing  as  he  rides  through  the  reeds. 
The  elaborate  toilet  is  omitted,  as  in  I,  J. 
The  knight  makes  haste  to  the  dark  wood. 
They  come  to  a  cold  spring,  “  mit  Bluot  war 
er  iiberrunnen ;  ”  then  to  a  hazel,  behind  which 
a  dove  coos  ominously.  Anneli  says,  Listen. 
The  dove  coos  you  are  a  false  man,  that  will 
not  spare  my  life.  No,  says  the  knight,  that 
is  not  it ;  the  dove  is  cooing  about  its  blue 
foot,  for  its  fate  is  to  freeze  in  winter.  The 
cloak  is  thrown  on  the  grass,  the  eleven  maids 
in  the  fir  are  descried,  and  Anneli  is  told  she 
must  hang  highest,  and  be  empress  over  all. 
He  concedes  her  as  many  cries  as  she  likes,  for 
only  the  wood-birds  will  hear.  She  calls  on 
God,  the  Virgin,  and  her  brother.  The  brother 
thinks  he  hears  his  sister’s  voice,  calls  to  his 
groom  to  saddle,  comes  upon  the  knight  while 
he  is  twisting  a  withe  for  his  horse,  as  he  says, 
ties  him  to  the  end  of  the  withe,  and  makes 
him  pay  for  all  he  has  perpetrated  in  the 
wood.  He  then  swings  Anneli  behind  him, 
and  rides  home  with  her. 

P,  the  other  Swiss  ballad,  has  been  re- 

My  brother  is  a  hunting  man, 

And  all  the  small  game  shoot  he  can ; 

He  had  a  sword  with  edges  two, 

And  ran  the  heart  of  the  false  man  through 

Ye  maidens  now  in  general, 

Let  this  be  warning  to  you  all ; 

With  man  so  false  you  never  should 
Go  to  so  very  dark  a  wood. 

f  So  in  Rochholz,  Schweizer  Sagen,  No  14,  i,  23,  a  man. 
who  had  killed  eleven  maids  would,  if  he  could  have  made 
up  the  number  twelve,  have  been  able  to  pass  through  walls 
and  mouseholes.  Again,  a  certain  robber  in  Jutland,  who 
had  devoured  eight  children's  hearts,  would  have  acquired 
the  power  of  flying  could  he  but  have  secured  one  more. 
Grundtvig,  D.  g.  F.  iv,  16,  note. 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


35 


touched,  and  more  than  retouched  in  places, 
by  a  modern  pen.  Still  the  substance  of  the 
story,  and,  on  the  whole,  the  popular  tone,  is 
preserved.  Fair  Anneli,  in  the  miller’s  house, 
hears  the  knight  singing  as  he  rides  through 
the  rushes,  and  runs  down-stairs  and  calls  to 
him :  she  would  go  off  with  him  if  she  could 
sing  like  that,  and  her  clothes  are  fit  for  any 
young  lady.  The  knight  promises  that  he 
will  teach  her  his  song  if  she  will  go  with 
him,  and  bids  her  put  these  fine  clothes  on. 
They  ride  to  the  wood.  A  dove  calls  from 
the  hazel,  “He  will  betray  thee.”  Anneli 
asks  what  the  dove  is  saying,  and  is  answered 
much  as  in  J  and  O,  that  it  is  talking  about 
its  frost-bitten  feet  and  claws.  The  knight 
tears  through  the  wood,  to  the  great  peril  of 
Anneli’s  gown  and  limbs,  and  when  he  has 
come  to  the  right  place,  spreads  his  cloak  on 
the  grass,  and  makes  the  usual  request.  She 
weeps  when  she  sees  eleven  maids  in  the  fir- 
tree,  and  receives  the  customary  consolation  : 

1  Weep  not  too  sore,  my  Anneli, 

’T  is  true  thou  art  doomed  the  twelfth  to  be ; 
Up  to  the  highest  tip  must  thou  go, 

And  a  margravine  be  to  all  below ; 

Must  be  an  empress  over  the  rest, 

And  hang  the  highest  of  all  as  the  best.’ 

The  request  to  be  allowed  three  cries  is  lost. 
The  knight  tells  her  to  cry  as  much  as  she 
pleases,  he  knows  no  one  will  come  ;  the  wild 
birds  will  not  hear,  and  the  doves  are  hushed. 
She  cries  to  father,  mother,  and  brother.  The 
brother,  who  is  sitting  over  his  wine  at  the 
inn,  hears,  saddles  his  best  horse,  rides  furious¬ 
ly,  and  comes  first  to  a  spring  filled  with  locks 
of  maid’s  hair  and  red  with  maid’s  blood  ; 
then  to  a  bush,  where  the  knight  (Riideli, 
Rudolph)  is  twisting  his  withe.  He  bids  his 
sister  be  silent,  for  the  withe  is  not  for  her ; 
the  villain  is  twisting  it  for  his  own  neck, 
and  shall  be  dragged  at  the  tail  of  his  horse. 

Q  resembles  the  Swabian  ballads,  and  pre¬ 
sents  only  these  variations  from  the  regular 
story.  The  dove  adds  to  the  warning  “  Fair 
maid,  be  not  beguiled,”  what  we  find  nowhere 
else,  “Yonder  I  see  a  cool  spring,  around 
which  blood  is  running.”  The  knight,  to  re¬ 


move  the  maid’s  anxiety,  says,  “  Let  it  talk  ; 
it  does  not  know  me  ;  I  am  no  such  murder¬ 
er.”  The  end  is  excessively  feeble.  When  the 
brother,  a  hunter  as  before,  reaches  his  sister, 
“  a  robber  runs  away,”  and  then  the  brother 
takes  her  by  the  hand,  conducts  her  to  her  fa¬ 
ther's  land,  and  enjoins  her  to  stay  at  home 
and  spin  silk.  There  are  no  names. 

There  is  one  feature  entirely  peculiar  to  R. 
The  knight  carries  off  the  maid,  as  before, 
but  when  they  come  to  the  hazel  bush  there 
are  eleven  doves  that  sing  this  “  new  song 

‘  Be  not  beguiled,  maiden, 

The  knight  is  beguiling  thee  : 

‘  We  are  eleven  already, 

Thou  shalt  be  the  twelfth.’ 

The  eleven  doves  are  of  course  the  spirits  of 
the  eleven  preceding  victims.  The  maid’s 
inquiry  as  to  what  they  mean  is  lost.  The 
knight’s  evasion  is  not  ingenious,  but  more 
likely  to  allay  suspicion  than  simply  saying, 
“  I  am  no  such  murderer.”  He  says,  “  Fear 
not :  the  doves  are  singing  a  song  that  is  com¬ 
mon  in  these  parts.”  When  they  come  to  the 
spring  “  where  blood  and  water  are  running,” 
and  the  maid  asks  what  strange  spring  is  this, 
the  knight  answers  in  the  same  way,  and  per¬ 
haps  could  not  do  better :  “  Fear  not :  there  is 
in  these  parts  a  spring  that  runs  blood  and 
water.”  This  spring  is  misplaced,  for  it  oc¬ 
curs  before  they  enter  the  wood.  The  last 
scene  in  the  ballad  is  incomplete,  and  goes  no 
further  than  the  brother’s  exclamation  when 
he  comes  in  upon  the  knight :  “  Stop,  young 
knight !  Spare  my  sister’s  life.”  The  parties 
in  R  are  nameless. 

So  again  in  S,  which  also  has  neither  the 
knight’s  enchanting  song  nor  the  bloody 
spring.  There  are  two  doves,  as  in  J,  stanza 
4.  The  cries  are  addressed  to  mother,  father, 
brother,  as  in  N,  and,  as  in  N,  again,  the  brother 
cocks  his  gun,  and  shoots  the  knight  down  ;* 
then  calmly  leads  his  sister  home,  with  the 
warning  against  knights. 

*  What  will  those  who  are  so  troubled  about  cork-heeled 
shoon  in  ‘  Sir  Patrick  Spens  ’  say  to  the  fire-arms  in  L,  N, 
S? 


36 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


(HI.)  T,  the  first  of  the  third  series,  has 
marked  signs  of  deterioration.  Ulrich  does 
not  enchant  Annchen  by  his  song,  and  prom¬ 
ise  to  teach  it  to  her  ;  he  offers  to  teach  her 
“  bird-song.”  They  walk  out  together,  appar¬ 
ently,  and  come  to  a  hazel,  with  no  dove ; 
neither  is  there  any  spring.  Annie  sits  down 
on  the  grass  ;  Ulrich  lays  his  head  in  her  lap ; 
she  weeps,  and  he  asks  why.  It  is  for  eleven 
maids  in  the  fir-tree,  as  so  often  before.  Ul¬ 
rich’s  style  has  become  much  tamer: 

‘  Ah,  Annie,  Annie,  dear  to  me, 

How  soon  shalt  thou  the  twelfth  one  be  !  ’ 

She  begs  for  three  cries,  and  calls  to  her  fa¬ 
ther,  to  God,  to  her  youngest  brother.  The 
last  is  sitting  over  the  wine  and  hears.  He 
demands  of  Ulrich  where  she  is,  and  is  told, 
Upon  yon  linden,  spinning  silk.  Then  ensues 
this  dialogue  :  Why  are  your  shoes  blood-red  ? 
Why  not  ?  I  have  shot  a  dove.  That  dove 
my  mother  bare  under  her  breast.  Annie  is 
laid  in  the  grave,  and  angels  sing  over  her ; 
Ulrich  is  broken  on  the  wheel,  and  round  him 
the  ravens  cry. 

There  is  no  remnant  or  reminiscence  of  the 
magical  singing  in  U.  Schon  Ulrich  and  Roth 
Annchen  go  on  a  walk,  and  come  first  to  a 
fir-tree,  then  a  green  mead.  The  next  scene 
is  exactly  as  in  T.  Ulrich  says  the  eleven 
maids  were  his  wives,  and  that  he  had  thrust 
his  sword  through  their  hearts.  Annie  asks 
for  three  sighs ,  and  directs  them  to  God,  to 
Jesus,  and  to  her  youngest  brother.  He  is 
sitting  over  his  wine,  when  the  sigh  comes 
into  the  window,  and  Ulrich  simultaneously 
in  at  the  door.  The  remainder  is  very  much 
as  in  T. 

V  differs  from  U  only  in  the  names,  which 
are  Schon-Heinrich  And  Schcin-Annelein,  and 
in  the  “  sighs  ”  returning  to  cries,  which  in¬ 
voke  God,  father,  and  brother. 

W  begins  with  a  rivalry  between  ijlrich 

*  A  variety  of  W,  cited  in  Schlesische  Volkslieder,  p.  26, 
has, 

‘  Ach  Ulbrich,  Ulbrich,  Halsemann,  Halsemann, 

Lass  da  mich  nur  drei  Gale  schrei’n !  ’ 

Grundtvig,  assuming  that  the  name  is  Ulbrich  Halsemann, 
would  account  for  the  second  and  superfluous  character  here 


and  Hanselein  *  for  the  hand  of  Rautendelein 
(Rautendchen).  Ulrich  is  successful.  She 
packs  up  her  jewels,  and  he  takes  her  to  a 
wood,  where  she  sees  eleven  maids  hanging. 
He  assures  her  she  shall  presently  be  the 
twelfth.  It  is  then  they  sit  down,  and  she 
leans  her  head  on  his  breast  and  weeps,  “  be¬ 
cause,”  as  she  says,  “  I  must  die.”  His  re¬ 
mark  upon  this,  if  there  was  any,  is  lost.  Hoff¬ 
mann  inserts  a  stanza  from  another  Silesian 
copy,  in  which  Ulrich  says,  Rather  than 
spare  thy  life,  I  will  run  an  iron  stake  through 
thee.  She  asks  for  three  cries,  and  he  says, 
Four,  if  you  want.  She  prefers  four,  and  calls 
to  her  father,  mother,  sister,  brother.  The 
brother,  as  he  sits  over  the  wine,  hears  the 
cry,  and  almost  instantly  Ulrich  comes  in  at 
the  door.  He  pretends  to  have  killed  a  dove  ; 
the  brother  knows  what  dove,  and  hews  off 
Ulrich’s  head,  with  a  speech  like  that  in  I. 
Still,  as  Rautendchen  is  brought  to  the  grave, 
with  toll  of  bells,  so  Ulrich  is  mounted  on  the 
wheel,  where  ravens  shriek  over  him. 

X.  Albrecht  and  Hanselein  woo  Alalein. 
She  is  promised  to  Albrecht,  but  Hansel  gets 
her.  He  takes  her  to  a  green  mead,  spreads 
his  mantle  on  the  grass,  and  she  sits  down. 
His  lying  in  her  lap  and  her  discovery  of  the 
awful  tree  are  lost.  She  weeps,  and  he  tells 
her  she  shall  be  “  his  eleventh.”  Her  cries 
are  condensed  into  one  stanza  : 

‘  Gott  Yater,  Solin,  Herr  Jesu  Christ, 

Mem  jungster  Bruder,  wo  Du  bist ! ,’ 

Her  brother  rides  in  the  direction  of  the  voice, 
and  meets  Hanselein  in  the  wood,  who  says 
Alalein  is  sitting  with  princes  and  counts. 
The  conclusion  is  as  in  T,  U,  V. 

Y  has  Ansar  Uleraich  wooing  a  king’s 
daughter,  Annie,  to  the  eighth  year.  He 
takes  her  to  a  fir-wood,  then  to  a  fir,  a  stump 
of  a  tree,  a  spring  ;  in  each  case  bidding  her 
sit  down.  At  the  spring  he  asks  her  if  she 

[found  also  in  W]  by  a  divarication  of  Ulrich  Halsemann 
into  Ulrich  and  Halsemann  (H'anslein).  Ansar,  “  bisher 
unverstandlicher  Vorname  des  Ritters  Uleraich  ”  in  Y  (Mei- 
nert),  would  equally  well  yield  Hanslein.  Might  not  Halse¬ 
mann  possibly  be  an  equivalent  of  Halsherr  ? 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


37 


wishes  to  be  drowned,  and,  upon  her  saying 
no,  cuts  off  her  head.  He  has  not  walked 
half  a  mile  before  he  meets  her  brother. 
The  brother  inquires  where  Ulrich  has  left 
his  sister,  and  the  reply  is,  “  By  the  green 
Rhine.”  The  conclusion  is  as  in  W.  Ulrich 
loses  his  head,  and  the  brother  pronounces 
the  imprecation  which  is  found  there  and 
•  in  I.* 

Z,  which  takes  us  back  from  Eastern  Ger¬ 
many  to  the  Rhine,  combines  features  from 
all  the  three  groups.  Ulrich  fascinates  a 
king’s  daughter  by  his  song.  She  collects  her 
gold  and  jewels,  as  in  W,  and  goes  to  a 
wood,  where  a  dove  warns  her  that  she  will, 
be  betrayed.  Ulrich  appropriates  her  valua¬ 
bles,  and  they  wander  about  till  they  come 
to  the  Rhine.  There  he  takes  her  into  a  wood, 
and  gives  her  a  choice  between  hanging  and 
drowning,  and,  she  declining  both,  says  she 
shall  die  by  his  sword.  But  first  she  is  al¬ 
lowed  three  cries,  —  to  God,  her  parents,  her 
youngest  brother.  The  youngest  brother  de¬ 
mands  of  Ulrich  where  he  has  left  his  sister. 

“  Look  in  my  pocket,  and  you  shall  find  four¬ 
teen  tongues,  and  the  last  cut  [reddest]  of  all 
is  your  sister’s.”  The  words  were  scarcely 
out  of  his  mouth  before  Ulrich’s  sword  had 
taken  off  his  head. 

The  three  classes  of  the  German  ballad,  it 
will  be  observed,  have  for  their  principal  dis¬ 
tinction  that  in  I  the  maid  saves  her  own 
life  by  an  artifice,  and  takes  the  life  of  her 
treacherous  suitor  ;  in  II,  she  is  rescued  by 
her  brother,  who  also  kills  the  traitor ;  in  III, 
she  dies  by  the  villain’s  hand,  and  he  by  her 
brother’s,  or  by  a  public  execution.  There 
are  certain  subordinate  traits  which  are  con¬ 
stant,  or  nearly  so,  in  each  class.  In  I,  A-F, 
a  choice  of  deaths  is  invariably  offered ;  the  - 
maid  gets  the  advantage  of  the  murderer  by 
persuading  him  to  take  off  his  coat  [distorted 
in  F,  which  has  lost  its  conclusion]  ;  and,  on 
her  way  home,  she  falls  in  wdth  one  or  more 
of  the  robber’s  family,  mother,  brothers,  ser¬ 
vant,  who  interrogate  her  [except  F,  which, 
as  just  said,  is  a  fragment].  Class  II  has  sev- 

*  And  in  ‘  Der  Mutter  Fluch,’  Meinert,  p.  246,  a  ballad 
with  which  Y  agrees  in  the  first  two  and  last  four  stanzas. 


eral  marks  of  its  own.  All  the  thirteen  bal¬ 
lads  [G-S],  except  the  last,  represent  the 
knight  as  fascinating  the  maid  by  his  singing  ; 
in  all  but  Q  she  is  warned  of  her  danger  by 
a  dove,f  or  more  than  one  ;  in  all  but  the 
much-abridged  M,  N,  the  knight  spreads  his 
cloak  on  the  grass,  they  sit  down,  and,  ex¬ 
cepting  M,  N,  R,  the  unromantic  service  is 
repeated  which  she  undertakes  in  Danish  A, 
B,  D,  E,  F,  H,  L,  Swedish  A,  Norwegian  A, 
B.  The  bloody  spring  occurs  in  some  form, 
though  often  not  quite  intelligible,  in  H,  J, 
K,  L,  O,  P,  Q,  R  (also  in  D,  Y).  All  but 
the  much-abridged  M,  N  have  the  question, 
What  are  you  weeping  for  ?  your  father’s  land, 
humbled  pride,  lost  honor  ?  etc. ;  but  this 
question  recurs  in  T,  U,  V,  W.  The  cries  for 
help  are  a  feature  of  both  the  second  and  the 
third  class,  and  are  wanting  only  in  Y.  Class 
III  differs  from  I,  and  resembles  II,  in  having 
the  cries  for  help,  and,  in  the  less  impaired 
forms,  T-W,  the  knight  spreads  his  cloak,  lies 
down  with  his  head  in  the  lady’s  lap,  and 
asks  the  cause  of  her  tears.  Beyond  this,  and 
the  changed  catastrophe,  the  ballads-  of  Class 
III  are  distinguished  by  what  they  have  lost. 

Forms  in  which  the  story  of  this  is  mixed 
with  that  of  some  other  German  ballad  remain 
to  be  noticed. 

A.  A  ballad  first  published  in  Nicolai’s 
Almanach,  n,  100,  No  21  (1778),  and  since 
reprinted,  under  the  titles,  ‘  Liebe  ohne  Stand,’ 
‘  Der  Ritter  und  die  Konigstochter,’  etc.,  but 
never  with  absolute  fidelity,  in  Wunderhorn 
(1819),  I,  37  (=  Erlach,  H,  120),  Kretzsch- 
mer,  No  72,  I,  129;  Mittler,  No  89;  Erk, 
Neue  Sammlung,  iii,  18,  No  14 ;  also,  with  a 
few  changes,  by  Zuccalmaglio,  No.  95,  p.  199, 
as  ‘  aus  Schwaben  ;  ’  by  Erk,  Liederhort,  No 
28,  p.  90,  as  “  corrected  from  oral  tradition  ;  ” 
and  as  “  from  oral  tradition,”  in  Erk’s  Wun¬ 
derhorn  (1857),  i,  39.  Independent  versions 
are  given  by  Mittler,  No  90,  p.  83,  from  Ober- 
hessen  ;  Profile,  Weltliche  u.  geistliche  Volks- 
lieder,  No  5,  p.  10,  from  the  Harz  ;  Reiffer- 
scheid,  No  18,  p.  36,  from  Bokendorf.  Erk 
refers  to  still  another  copy,  five  stanzas  longer 

t  There  is  a  dove  in  Z,  but  Z,  as  has  been  said,  presents 
traits  of  all  three  classes. 


38 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


than  Nicolai’s,  from  Hesse-Darmstadt,  Neue 
Sammlung,  iii,  19,  note. 

What  other  ballad  is  here  combined  with 
Ulinger,  it  is  impossible  to  make  out.  The 
substance  of  the  narrative  is  that  a  knight 
rides  singing  through  the  reeds,  and  is  heard 
by  a  king’s  daughter,  who  forthwith  desires 
to  go  with  him.  They  ride  till  the  horse  is 
hungry  [tired]  ;  he  spreads  his  cloak  on  the 
grass,  and  makes,  sans  fagon ,  his  usual  re¬ 
quest.  The  king’s  daughter  sheds  many  tears, 
and  he  asks  why.  “  Had  I  followed  my  fa¬ 
ther’s  counsel,  I  might  have  been  empress.” 
The  knight  cuts  off  her  head  at  the  word,  and 
says,  Had  you  held  your  tongue,  you  would 
have  kept  your  head.  He  throws  the  body 
behind  a  tree,  with  Lie  there  and  rot ;  my 
young  heart  must  mourn  [no  knight,  a  knight, 
shall  mourn  over  thee].  Another  stanza  or 
two,  found  in  some  versions,  need  not  be  par¬ 
ticularly  noticed. 

‘  Stolz  Sieburg,’  Simrock,  No  8,  p.  21,  from 
the  Rhine,  Mittler,  No  88,  is  another  and  some¬ 
what  more  rational  form  of  the  same  story. 
To  the  question  whether  she  is  weeping  for 
Gut,  Muth,  Ehre,  the  king’s  daughter  answers : 

1  Ich  wein  um  meine  Ehre, 

Ich  wollt  gern  wieder  umkehren.’ 

For  this  Stolz  Sieburg  strikes  off  her  head, 
with  a  speech  like  that  which  we  have  just 
had,  and  throws  it  into  a  spring  ;  then  re¬ 
solves  to  hang  himself.* 

A  Dutch  version  of  this  ballad,  Le  Jeune, 
No  92,  p.  292 ;  Willems,  No  72,  p.  186 ;  Hoff¬ 
mann,  No  29,  p.  92,  has  less  of  the  Halewyn  in 
it,  and  more  motive  than  the  German,  though 
less  romance.  “  If  you  might  have  been  an 
empress,”  says  the  knight,  “I,  a  margrave’s 

*  ‘Da  lyge,  feyns  Lybchen,  unndt  fawle, 

Meyn  jungk  Herze  muss  trawren.’ 

Nicolai,  vv  35,  36, 

‘Da  liege,  du  Hauptchen,  und  faule, 

Kein  Reuter  wird  dir  nachtrauern.’ 

Simrock,  vv  35,  36, 

are  evidently  derived  from  the  apostrophe  to  the  murder¬ 
er’s  head  in  I,  W,  Y. 

Stolz  Syburg  is  the  hero  of  a  very  different  ballad,  from 
the  Miinster  region,  Reifferscheid,  No  16,  p.  32  (also  No  17, 
and  Simrock,  No  9,  p.  23,  ‘  Stolz  Heinrich  ’).  And  from 
this  the  name,  in  consequence  of  a  remote  resemblance  in  the 


son,  will  marry  you  to-morrow.”  “  I  would 
rather  lose  my  head  than  be  your  wife,”  re¬ 
plies  the  lady  ;  upon  which  he  cuts  off  her 
head  and  throws  it  into  a  fountain,  saying, 
Lie  there,  smiling  mouth  !  Many  a  thousand 
pound  have  you  cost  me,  and  many  pence  of 
red  gold.  Your  head  is  clean  cut  off. 

B.  The  Ulinger  story  is  also  found  com¬ 
bined  with  that  of  the  beautiful  ballad,  ‘  Was- 
sermanns  Braut.’ f  (1.)  In  a  Transylvanian 
ballad,  ‘  Brautmorder,’  Schuster,  Siebenbur- 
giscli-saclisische  Volkslieder,  p.  57,  No  54  A, 
38  vv,  with  variations,  and  p.  59,  B,  a  fragment 
of  10  vv  ;  (A  in  a  translation,  Bohme,  No  14,  p. 
61.)  A  king  from  the  Rhine  sues  seven  years 
for  a  king’s  daughter,  and  does  not  prevail 
till  the  eighth.  She  begs  her  mother  not  to 
consent,  for  she  has  seen  it  in  the  sun  that 
she  shall  not  long  be  her  daughter,  in  the 
moon  that  she  shall  drown  before  the  year  is 
out,  in  the  bright  stars  that  her  blood  shall 
be  dispersed  far  and  wide.  He  takes  her  by 
the  hand,  and  leads  her  through  a  green  wood, 
at  the  end  of  which  a  grave  is  already  made. 
He  pushes  her  into  the  grave,  and  drives  a 
stake  through  her  heart.  The  princess’  brother 
asks  what  has  become  of  his  sister.  “  I  left 
her  on  the  Rhine,  drinking  mead  and  wine.” 
“  Why  are  your  skirts  so  bloody ? ”  “I  have 
shot  a  turtle-dove.”  “That  turtle-dove  was, 
mayhap,  my  sister.”  They  spit  him  on  a  red- 
hot  stake,  and  roast  him  like  a  fish.  Lines 
1-4  of  this  ballad  correspond  to  1-4  of  Y 
(which  last  agree  with  1-4  of  Meinert’s  ‘  Was- 
sermanns  Braut  ’)  ;  17, 18,  to  Y  5,  6  ;  25-34  to 
21-30  ;  and  we  find  in  verse  22  the  stake 
through  the  heart  which  Hoffmann  has  inter¬ 
polated  in  W,  stanza  12. 

(2.)  A  Silesian  copy  of  ‘  Wassermanns 

story,  may  have  been  taken  up  by  the  Rhine  ballad,  though 
it  has  contributed  nothing  more.  Margaret,  a  king’s  daugh¬ 
ter,  is  wiled  away  by  a  splendid  description  of  Stolz  Syburg’s 
opulence.  When  they  have  gone  a  long  way,  he  tells  her 
that  he  has  nothing  but  a  barren  heath.  She  stabs  herself 
at  his  feet. 

t  ‘  Wassermans  Braut,’  Meinert,  p.  77  ;  ‘  Die  ungliickliche 
Braut,’  Hoffmann  u.  Richter,  Schlesische  Y.  L.,  p.  6,  No.  2 ; 

*  Konigs  Tochterlein,’  Erk  u.  Irmer,  vi,  6,  No  4 ;  ‘  Der  Was- 
sermann,’  Erk’s  Liederhort,  p.  50,  No  17.  (‘  Die  Nixen- 

braut,’  “  Norddeutschland,”  Zuccalmaglio,  p.  192,  No  92, 
seems  to  be  Meinert’s  copy  written  over.) 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


39 


Braut,'  cod  by  ffman  contributed  to  Deutsches 
Museum,  1852,  n,  164,  repi’esents  the  bride, 
after  she  has  fallen  into  the  water  and  lias 
been  recovered  by  the  nix,  as  asking  for  three 
cries,  and  goes  on  from  this  point  like  the  Ul¬ 
rich  ballad  W,  the  conclusion  being  that  the 
sister  is  drowned  before  the  brother  comes  to 
her  aid.* 

‘  Nun  schiirz  dicli,  Gredlein,’  “  Forster’s 
Frische  Liedlein,  No  66,”  Bohme,  No  53,  Uh- 
land,  No  256  A,  which  is  of  the  date  1549,  and 
therefore  older  than  the  Nuremberg  and  Augs¬ 
burg  broadsides,  has  derived  stanzas  7-9  from 
an  Ulinger  ballad,  unless  this  passage  is  to 
be  regarded  as  common  property.  Some  copies 
of  the  ballad  commonly  called  ‘  Miillertiicke  ’ 
have  also  adopted  verses  from  Ulinger,  es¬ 
pecially  that  in  Meier’s  Schwabische  Volks- 
lieder,  No  233,  p.  403. 

A  form  of  ballad  resembling  English  C-F, 
but  with  some  important  differences,  is  ex¬ 
traordinarily  diffused  in  Poland.  There  is 
also  a  single  version  of  the  general  type  of 
English  A,  or,  better,  of  the  first  class  of  the 
German  ballads.  This  version,  A,  Pauli, 
Piesni  ludu  Polskiego  w  Galicyi,  p.  90,  No  5, 
and  Ivolberg,  Piesni  ludu  Polskiego,  No  5,  bbb, 
p.  70,  runs  thus.  There  was  a  man  who  went 
about  the  world  wiling  away  young  girls  from 
father  and  mother.  He  had  already  done  this 
with  eight ;  he  was  now  carrying  off  the  ninth. 
He  took  her  to  a  frightful  wood ;  then  bade 
her  look  in  the  direction  of  her  house.  She 
asked,  “  What  is  that  white  thing  that  I  see 
on  yon  fir  ?  ”  “  There  are  already  eight  of 

them,”  he  said,  “  and  you  shall  be  the  ninth  ; 
never  shall  you  go  back  to  your  father  and 
mother.  Take  off  that  gown,  Maria.”  Maria 
was  looking  at  his  sword.  “  Don’t  touch, 
Maria,  for  you  will  wound  your  pretty  little 

*  The  remarkable  Norwegian  ballad  of  the  ‘  Wassermanns 
Braut’  group,  The  Nix  and  Heiemo,  Landstad,  No  39,  p. 
350,  has  not  been  unaffected  by  the  one  we  are  now  occupied 
with.  There  is  even  a  verbal  contact  between  stanza  19, 

‘  Heiemo  tenkte  meS  sjave  seg : 

Tru  mine  sma  knivar  ’ki  hjelper  meg?  ’ 

and  Norwegian  F,  stanza  9,  cited  by  Grundtvig,  iv,  4, 

Lengji  sto  Gullbjor,  ho  tenkte  maj  seg  : 

‘  Kann  inkje  m('  riminne  hjclpe  meg?  ’ 

t  Kolberg’s  b,  h,  k,  v,  x,  bb,  cc,  hh,  kk,  11,  nn,  zx, 


hands.”  “  Don’t  mind  my  hands,  John,”  she 
replied,  “  but  rather  see  what  a  bold  heart  I 
have ;  ”  and  instantly  John’s  head  flew  off. 
Then  follows  a  single  stanza,  which  seems  to 
be  addressed  to  John’s  mother,  after  the  man¬ 
ner  of  the  German  A,  etc. :  “  See,  dear  mother ! 
I  am  thy  daughter-in-law,  who  have  just  put 
that  traitor  out  of  the  world.”  There  is  a 
moral  for  conclusion,  which  is  certainly  a  later 
addition. 

The  other  ballads  may  be  arranged  as  fol¬ 
lows,  having  regard  chiefly  to  the  catastrophe. 
B,  Ivolberg,  No  5,  oo  :  C,  rr :  D,  ccc  :  E,  dd : 
F ,  uu :  G,  ww  :  H,  t :  I,  u  :  J,  gg  :  K,  mm  : 
L,  Waclaw  z  Oleska,  p.  483,  2,  Ivolberg,  p : 
L*.  Ivozlowski,  Lud,  p.  33,  Noiv:  M,  Woj- 
cicki,  I,  234,  Ivolberg,  r :  N,  Wojcicki,  I,  82, 
Kolberg,  s :  O,  Kolberg,  d :  P,  ib.  f  :  Q,  pp : 
R,  Wojcicki,  i,  78,  Kolberg,  e  :  S,  Kolberg, 
1 :  T,  ib.  n :  U,  Pauli,  Pjes'ni  ludu  Polskiego 
w  Galicyi,  p.  92,  No  6,  Kolberg,  q:  V,  Kol¬ 
berg,  y:  W,  Wojcicki,  n,  298,  “  J.  Lipinski, 
Piesni  ludu  Wielkopolskiego,  p.  34,”  Kol¬ 
berg,  ee  ;  X,  Kolberg,  a :  Y,  ib.  z  :  Z,  aa  : 
AA,  qq :  BB,  w  ;  CC,  ddd:  DD,  m :  EE,  c  : 
FF,  o  :  GG,  11 :  HH,  ss  :  II,  ii:  JJ,  ff :  KK, 
tt :  LL,  i  :  MM,  g*.  In  B-K  the  woman  comes 
off  alive  from  her  adventure  :  in  O-CC,  she 
loses  her  life  :  in  L-N  there  is  a  jumble  of 
both  conclusions  :  DD-MM  are  incomplete.! 

The  story  of  the  larger  part  of  these  bal¬ 
lads,  conveyed  as  briefly  as  possible,  is  this  : 
John,  who  is  watering  horses,  urges  Cather¬ 
ine,  J  who  is  drawing  water,  to  elope  with  him. 
He  bids  her  take  silver  and  gold  enough,  that 
the  horse  may  have  something  to  carry.  Cath¬ 
erine  says  her  mother  will  not  allow  her  to 
enter  the  new  chamber.  Tell  her  that  you 
have  a  headache,  says  John,  and  she  will  con¬ 
sent.  Catherine  feigns  a  headache,  is  put  into 

yy,  zz,  consist  of  only  one  or  two  initial  stanzas,  containing 
no  important  variation.  His  aaa,  a  fragment  of  six  stanzas, 
Pauli,  p.  147,  No  6,  Wojcicki,  n,  169,  though  it  begins  like 
the  rest,  sounds  like  a  different  ballad. 

The  ballad  in  Wojcicki,  i,  38,  is  allied  with  the  one  we 
are  engaged  with,  and  the  two  fragments  on  p.  36,  p.  37 
with  both  this  and  that. 

f  Anne  in  R,  LL,  and  Kolberg’s  h :  Mary  in  I,  U,  II : 
Ursula,  N :  both  Catherine  and  Alice,  AA.  John  is  found 
in  all  but  N,  where  there  is  a  nameless  seigneur. 


40 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


the  new  chamber,  and  absconds  with  John 
while  her  mother  is  asleep.*  At  a  certain 
stage,  more  commonly  at  successive  stages,  — 
on  the  high  road,  K,  P,  S,  DD,  II,  LL,  in  a 
dark  wood,  D,  P,  T,  X,  Z,  DD,  EB,  at  a  spring, 
D,  K,  S,  T,  V,  W,  X,  Y,  Z,  EE,  II,  LL,  etc., 
—  he  bids  her  take  off,  or  himself  takes  from 
her,  her  “  rich  attire,”  D,  P,  T,  V,  W,  X,  Y, 
Z,  DD,  EE,  her  satin  gown,  D,  T,  X,  DD,  EE, 
her  French  or  Turkish  costume,  K,  P,  II, 
robes  of  silver,  K,  shoes,  Z,  CC,  FF,  silk  stock¬ 
ings,  T,  corals,  D,  X,  CC,  EE,  pearls,  T,  rings, 
K,  O-T,  X,  Z,  CC-FF,  II,  LL.  In  many  of 
the  ballads  he  tells  her  to  go  back  to  her 
mother,  B-G,  K,  L*,  M,  N,  Q,  S,  U,  X,  Y, 
EE,  HH-LL,  sometimes  after  pillaging  her, 
sometimes  without  mention  of  this.  Cather¬ 
ine  generally  replies  that  she  did  not  come 
away  to  have  to  go  back,  B,  C,  D,  G,  L*,  M, 
S,  U,  X,  Y,  EE,  HH,  JJ,  KK,  LL.  John 
seizes  her  by  the  hands  and  sides  and  throws 
her  into  a  deep  river  [pool,  water,  sea] .  Her 
apron  [tress,  A  A,  II,  both  apron  and  tress,  O, 
petticoat,  KK]  is  caught  on  a  stake  or  stump 
of  a  tree,  B,  C,  G,  H,  I,  O,  P,  R,  T,  U,  V,  W, 
Y,  BB,  DD,  EE,  II,  JJ,  KK  [in  a  bush  D], 
John  cuts  it  away  with  axe  or  sword,  G,  I, 
O,  R,  T,  BB,  II,  JJ.  She  cries  to  him  for 
help.  He  replies,  “  I  did  not  throw  you  in  to 
help  you  out,”  f  B,  C,  F,  P,  U,  V,  W,  X,  Z, 
EE,  II.  Catherine  is  drawn  ashore  in  a  fish¬ 
erman’s  net  [swims  ashore  I,  J,  GG]. 

Catherine  comes  out  from  the  water  alive 
in  B-N.  The  brother  who  plays  so  important 
a  part  in  the  second  class  of  German  ballads, 
appears  also  in  a  few  of  the  Polish  versions, 
B,  C,  D,  and  L*,  O,  P,  Q,  X,  but  is  a  mere 
shadow.  In  B  21,  22,  and  C  16,  17,  the 
brother,  who  is  “  on  the  mountain,”  and  may 
be  supposed  to  hear  the  girl’s  cry,  slides  down 

*  They  are  expressly  said  to  go  off  in  a  carriage  in  I,  O, 
Q,  T,  BB,  DD,  FP.  Still,  in  I,  John  says,  “  Let  the  black 
horse  have  something  to  carry  under  us.”  In  O,  T,  FF,  the 
horses  have  a  presentiment  of  evil  to  their  mistress,  and  re¬ 
fuse  to  stir. 

t  One  version  of  ‘  The  Two  Sisters/  Q,  has  the  same 
answer : 

‘  I  did  not  put  you  in  with  the  design 

Just  for  to  pull  you  out  again.’ 

st.  9. 

This  might  be  called  a  formula  in  Polish  ballads  :  something 


a  silken  cord,  which  proves  too  short,  and  the 
girl  “  adds  her  tress  ”  !  He  asks  the  fishermen 
to  throw  their  nets  for  her.  She  is  rescued, 
goes  to  church,  takes  an  humble  place  behind 
the  door,  and,  when  her  eyes  fall  on  the  young 
girls,  melts  into  tears.  Her  apron  catches  in 
a  bush  in  D  :  she  plucks  a  leaf,  and  sends  it 
down  the  stream  to  her  mother’s  house.  The 
mother  says  to  the  father,  “  Do  you  not  see 
how  Catherine  is  perishing  ?  ”  The  leaf  is 
next  sent  down  stream  to  her  sister’s  house, 
who  says  to  her  brother,  “  Do  you  not  see 
how  Catherine  is  perishing  ?  ”  He  rides  up  a 
high  mountain,  and  slides  down  his  silken 
cord.  Though  one  or  two  stanzas  are  lost,  or 
not  given,  the  termination  was  probably  the 
same  as  in  B,  C.  In  L*  15,  O  12,  the  brother, 
on  a  high  mountain,  hears  the  cry  for  help, 
and  slides  down  to  his  sister  on  a  silken  cord, 
but  does  nothing.  X  does  not  account  for  the 
brother’s  appearance  :  he  informs  the  fisher¬ 
men  of  what  has  happened,  and  they  draw 
Catherine  out,  evidently  dead.  The  brother 
hears  the  cry  from  the  top  of  a  wall  in  P  21, 
22 ;  slides  down  his  cord ;  the  sister  adds  her 
tress ;  he  directs  the  fishermen  to  draw  her 
out ;  she  is  dead.  Instead  of  the  brother  on 
the  wall,  we  have  a  mason  in  Q  27^  [perhaps 
“  the  brother  on  the  wall  ”  in  P  is  a  mason]. 
It  is  simply  said  that  “  he  added  ’!  a  silken 
cord  :  the  fishermen  drew  out  Catherine  dead. 
The  conclusion  is  equally,  or  more,  impotent 
in  all  the  versions  in  which  the  girl  escapes 
from  drowning.  In  G,  I,  J,  she  seats  herself 
on  a  stone,  and  apostrophizes  her  hair,  saying 
[in  G,  I],  “  Dry,  my  locks,  dry,  for  you  have 
had  much  pleasure  in  the  river  !  ”  She  goes  to 
church,  takes  an  humble  place,  and  weeps,  in 
E,  F,  G,  as  in  B,  C,  D.  John  goes  scot-free 
in  all  these.]:  Not  so  in  the  more  vigorous 

of  the  kind  occurs  three  times  in  X,  four  times  in  B,  five 
times  in  P ;  in  other  ballads  also.  In  Q  25,  Catherine 
clutches  the  river  bank,  and  John  pushes  away  her  hands. 
Compare  ‘The  Two  Sisters/  F  9,  further  on  in  this  volume. 

J  L,  L*  M,  N,  as  already  said,  confuse  the  two  catas¬ 
trophes.  John  say£,  in  N,  “  Do  you  see  that  broad  river 1 
I  will  measure  its  depth  by  throwing  you  in.”  We  may  as¬ 
sume  that  he  was  as  good  as  his  word.  But  Ursula  made 
her  way  home  through  woods  and  forests,  weeping  her  eyes 
out  on  the  way.  Kind  souls  dug  a  grave  for  her.  The  con¬ 
clusion  of  M  is  absurd,  but  need  not  be  particularized.  G 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


41 


ballads  of  tragic  termination.  Fierce  pursuit 
is  made  for  him.  He  is  cut  to  pieces,  or  torn 
to  pieces,  O,  P,  S,  T,  Y ;  broken  on  the  wheel, 
L,  U,  V,  W  ;  cleft  in  two,  BB  ;  broken  small 
as  barley-corns,  or  quartered,  by  horses,  L*,  Z  ; 
committed  to  a  dungeon,  to  await,  as  we  may 
hope,  one  of  these  penalties,  Q,  R.  The  bells 
toll  for  Catherine  [the  organs  play  for  her], 
and  she  is  laid  in  the  grave,  O-W,  Y,  Z,  L,  L\ 
There  are,  besides,  in  various  ballads  of  this 
second  class,  special  resemblances  to  other 
European  forms.  The  man  (to  whom  rank 
of  any  sort  is  assigned  only  in  N  *)  comes 
from  a  distant  country,  or  from  over  the  bor¬ 
der,  in  O,  Q,  R,  T,  DD,  GG,  as  in  English  D, 
E.  The  maid  is  at  a  window  in  M,  W,  as  in 
German  G,  J,  M,  O,  P,  Q,  etc.  In  Q  2,  John, 
who  has  come  from  over  the  border,  persuades 
the  maid  to  go  with  him  by  telling  her  that  in 
his  country  “  the  mountains  are  golden,  the 
mountains  are  of  gold,  the  ways  of  silk,”  re¬ 
minding  us  of  the  wonderland  in  Danish  A, 
E,  etc.  After  the  pair  have  stolen  away,  they 
go  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles,  O,  DD,  FF ; 
thrice  nine  miles,  Q  ;  nine  and  a  half  miles,  T  ; 
cross  one  field  and  another,  M,  R ;  travel  all 
night,  GG ;  and  neither  says  a  word  to  the 
other.  We  shall  find  this  trait  further  on  in 
French  B,  D,  Italian  B,  C,  D,  F,  G.  The 
choice  of  deaths  which  we  find  in  German  A- 
F  appeal’s  in  J.  Here,  after  passing  through 
a  silent  wood,  they  arrive  at  the  border  of  the 
(red)  sea.  She  sits  down  on  a  stone,  he  on  a 
rotten  tree.  He  asks,  By  which  death  will 
you  die :  by  my  right  hand,  or  by  drowning 
in  this  river  ?  They  come  to  a  dark  wood  in 
AA  ;  he  seats  himself  on  a  beech-trunk,  she 
near  a  stream.  He  asks,  Will  you  throw  your¬ 
self  into  the  river,  or  go  home  to  your  mother  ? 
So  H,  and  R  nearly.f  She  prefers  death  to 
returning.  Previous  victims  are  mentioned  in 

has  a  passage  of  the  sternest  theology.  While  Catherine  is 
struggling  in  the  water,  her  father  comes  by.  She  cries  to 
him  to  save  her.  He  says,  “  My  dear  Catherine,  you  have 
loved  pleasure  too  much.  Lord  Jesus  grant  you  drown  !  ” 
Her  mother  appears,  and  makes  the  same  reply  to  her 
daughter’s  appeal.  There  are  stall-copy  terminal  morals  to 
many  of  the  ballads. 

*  N  1,  “  A  lord  came  riding  from  his  estate  to  a  neigh¬ 
bor.” 


T,  DD,  HH.  When  she  calls  from  the  river 
for  help,  he  answers,  T  22,  You  fancy  you  are 
the  only  one  there  ;  six  have  gone  before,  and 
you  are  the  seventh:  HH  16,  Swim  the  river; 
go  down  to  the  bottom ;  six  maids  are  there 
already,  and  you  shall  be  the  seventh  [four, 
fifth]  :  DD  13,  Swim,  swim  away,  to  the  other 
side  ;  there  you  will  see  my  seventh  wife.]; 

Other  Slavic  forms  of  this  ballad  resem¬ 
ble  more  or  less  the  third  German  class.  A 
Wendish  version  from  Upper  Lusatia,  Haupt 
and  Schmaler,  Part  I,  No  1,  p.  27,  makes  Hil- 
zicka  (Lizzie)  go  out  before  dawn  to  cut  grass. 
Holdrask  suddenly  appears,  and  says  she  must 
pay  him  some  forfeit  for  trespassing  in  his 
wood.  She  has  nothing  but  her  sickle,  her 
silver  finger-ring,  and,  when  these  are  rejected, 
her  wreath,  and  that,  she  says,  he  shall  not 
have  if  she  dies  for  it.  Holdrask,  who  avows 
that  he  has  had  a  fancy  for  her  seven  years 
(cf.  German  Y,  and  the  Transylvanian  mixed 
form  B),  gives  her  her  choice,  to  be  cut  to 
pieces  by  his  sword,  or  trampled  to  death  by 
his  horse.  Which  way  pleases  him,  she  says, 
only  she  begs  for  three  cries.  All  three  are 
for  her  brothers.  They  ride  round  the  wood 
twice,  seeing  nobody ;  the  third  time  Hol¬ 
drask  comes  up  to  them.  Then  follows  the 
dialogue  about  the  bloody  sword  and  the  dove. 
When  asked  where  he  has  left  Hilzicka,  Hol¬ 
drask  is  silent.  The  elder  brother  seizes  him, 
the  younger  dispatches  him  with  his  sword. 

Very  similar  is  a  Bohemian  ballad,  trans¬ 
lated  in  Waldau’s  Bohmische  Grauaten,  u, 
25. §  While  Katie  is  cutting  grass,  early  in 
the  morning,  Indriasch  presents  himself,  and 
demands  some  for  his  horse.  She  says,  You 
must  dismount,  if  your  horse  is  to  have  grass. 
“  If  I  do,  I  will  take  away  your  wreath.” 
“  Then  God  will  not  grant  you  his  blessing.” 
He  springs  from  his  horse,  and  while  he  gives 

t  The  place  is  high  above  the  water  in  R  10,  11,  as  in 
English  D  9,  29,  C  4. 

J  BB  6,  “My  mother  said  that  I  had  seen  you;  she  will 
watch  me  closely,”  may  be  an  accidental  coincidence  with 
Danish  A  7-9,  B  6-8,  etc. 

§  The  second,  and  more  valuable,  volume  of  Waldau’s  B. 
G.  I  have  found  it  impossible  to  obtain.  Reiffcrscheid  cites 
the  ballad  at  p.  166. 


6 


42 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


it  grass  with  one  hand  snatches  at  the  wreath 
with  the  other.  “  Will  you  die,  or  surrender 
your  wreath  ?  ”  Take  my  life,  she  says,  but 
allow  me  three  cries.  Two  cries  reached  no 
human  ear,  but  the  third  cry  her  mother  heard, 
and  called  to  her  sons  to  saddle,  for  Katie  was 
calling  in  the  wood,  and  was  in  trouble.  They 
rode  over  stock  and  stone,  and  came  to  a  brook 
where  Indriasch  was  washing  his  hands.  The 
same  dialogue  ensues  as  in  the  Wendish  bal¬ 
lad.  The  brothers  hewed  the  murderer  into 
fragments. 

A  Servian  ballad  has  fainter  but  unmistak¬ 
able  traces  of  the  same  tradition  :  Yuk,  Srpske 
Narodne  Pjesme,  I,  282,  No  885,  ed.  1841  ; 
translated  by  Goetze,  Serbische  V.  L.,  p.  99, 
by  Talvj,  Y.  L.  der  Serben,  2d  ed.,  n,  172,  by 
Kapper,  Gesiinge  der  Serben,  H,  818.  Mara 
is  warned  by  her  mother  not  to  dance  with 
Thomas.  She  disobeys.  Thomas,  while  danc¬ 
ing,  gives  a  sign  to  his  servants  to  bring 
horses.  The  two  ride  off,  and  when  they 
come  to  the  end  of  a  field  Thomas  says, 
Seest  thou  yon  withered  maple  ?  There  thou 
slialt  hang,  ravens  eat  out  thine  eyes,  eagles 
beat  thee  with  their  wings.  Mara  shrieks, 
Ah  me  !  so  be  it  with  every  girl  that  does 
not  take  her  mother’s  advice.* 

French.  This  ballad  is  well  known  in 
France,  and  is  generally  found  in  a  form  re¬ 
sembling  the  English  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  scene 
of  the  attempted  murder  is  the  sea  or  a  river 
(as  in  no  other  but  the  Polish),  and  the  lady 
delivers  herself  by  an  artifice.  One  French 
version  nearly  approaches  Polish  O-CC. 

A.  ‘  Renauld  et  ses  quatorze  Femmes,’  44 
vv,  Paymaigre,  Chants  populaires  recueillis 
dans  le  pays  messin,  No  31,  i,  140.  Renauld 
carried  off  the  king’s  daughter.  When  they 
were  gone  half-way,  she  called  to  him  that 
she  was  dying  of  hunger  (cf.  German  A-F). 
Eat  your  hand,  he  answered,  for  you  will 
never  eat  bread  again.  When  they  had  come 
to  the  middle  of  the  wood,  she  called  out  that 

*  A  few  silly  verses  follow  in  the  original,  in  which 
Thomas  treats  what  he  had  said  as  a  jest.  These  are  prop¬ 
erly  rejected  by  Talvj  as  a  spurious  appendage, 
t  ‘  De  achte  de  soil  Helena  sin, 

De  achte  de  most  he  solwer  sin.’ 

German  A  b  13. 


she  was  dying  of  thirst.  Drink  your  blood, 
he  said,  for  you  will  never  drink  wine  again. 
When  they  came  to  the  edge  of  the  wood,  he 
said,  Do  you  see  that  river?  Fourteen  dames 
have  been  drowned  there,  and  you  shall  be 
the  fifteenth.  When  they'  came  to  the  river- 
bank,  he  bade  her  put  off  her  cloak,  her  shift. 

It  is  not  for  knights,  she  said,  to  see  ladies 
in  such  plight ;  they  should  bandage  their 
eyes  with  a  handkerchief.  This  Renauld  did, 
and  the  fair  one  threw  him  into  the  river. 
He  laid  hold  of  a  branch  ;  she  cut  it  off  with 
his  sword  (cf.  the  Polish  ballad,  where  the 
catastrophe,  and  consequently  this  act,  is  re¬ 
versed).  “  What  will  they  say  if  you  go  back 
without  your  lover  ?  ”  “I  will  tell  them  that 
I  did  for  you  what  you  meant  to  do  for  me.”  f 
“  Reach  me  your  hand;  I  will  marry  you  Sun¬ 
day.” 

“  Marry,  marry  a  fish,  Renauld, 

The  fourteen  women  down  below.” 

B.  ‘  De  Dion  et  de  la  Fille  du  Roi,’  from 
Auvergne,  Ampere,  Instructions,  etc.,  40  vv, 
p.  40,  stanzas  15-24,  the  first  fourteen  consti¬ 
tuting  another  ballad. $  The  pair  went  five  or 
six  leagues  without  exchanging  a  word  ;  only 
the  fair  one  said,  I  am  so  hungry  I  could 
eat  my  fist.  Eat  it,  replied  Dion,  for  you 
never  again  will  eat  bread.  Then  they  went 
five  or  six  leagues  in  silence,  save  that  she 
said,  I  am  so  thirsty  I  could  drink  my  blood. 

“  Drink  it,  for  you  never  will  drink  wine. 
Over  there  is  a  pond  in  which  fifteen  ladies 
have  had  a  bath,  have  drowned  themselves, 
and  you  will  make  sixteen.”  Arrived  at  the 
pond,  he  orders  her  to  take  off  her  clothes. 
She  tells  him  to  put  his  sword  under  his  feet, 
his  cloak  before  his  face,  and  turn  to  the  pond ; 
and,  when  he  has  done  so,  pushes  him  in. 
Here  are  my  keys  !  he  cries.  “  I  don’t  want 
them  ;  I  will  find  locksmiths.”  “  What  will 
your  friends  say  ?  ”  “I  will  tell  them  I  did 
by  you  as  you  would  have  done  by  me.” 

C.  ‘  Veux-tu  venir,  bell’  Jeanneton,’  32  vv,  . 

f  Another  version  of  this  double  ballad,  but  much  cor- 
rupted  in  the  second  part,  was  known  to  Gerard  de  Nerval. 
See  Les  Filles  du  Feu,  G3uvres  completes,  v,  132. 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


43 


from  Poitou  and  Aunis,  Bujeaud,  n,  232. 
When  they  reach  the  water,  the  fair  one  asks 
for  a  drink.  The  man  says,  incoherently 
enough,  Before  drinking  of  this  white  wine  I 
mean  to  drink  your  blood.  The  stanza  that 
should  tell  how  many  have  been  drowned  be¬ 
fore  is  lost.  Jeanneton,  having  been  ordered 
to  strip,  pushes  the  “  beau  galant  ”  into  the 
sea,  "while,  at  her  request,  he  is  pulling  off  her 
stockings.  He  catches  at  a  branch  ;  she  cuts 
it  off,  and  will  not  hear  to  his  entreaties. 

D.  ‘  En  revenant  de  la  jolie  Rochelle,’  twelve 
two-line  stanzas,  Gagnon,  Chansons  populaires 
du  Canada,  p.  155.  A  cavalier  meets  three 
fair  maids,  mounts  the  fairest  behind  him,  and 
rides  a  hundred  leagues  without  speaking  to 
her,  at  the  end  of  which  she  asks  to  drink. 
He  takes  her  to  a  spring,  but  when  there  she 
does  not  care  to  drink.  The  rest  of  the  bal¬ 
lad  is  pointless,  and  shows  that  the  original 
story  has  been  completely  forgotten. 

E.  ‘  Belle,  allons  nous  epromener,’  from  the 
Lyonnais,  28  vv,  Champfleury,  Chansons  des 
Provinces,  p.  172,  is  like  C,  but  still  more  de¬ 
fective.  The  pair  go  to  walk  by  “  la  mer 
courante.”  There  is  no  order  for  the  lady 
to  strip :  on  the  contrary,  she  cries,  Desha- 
billez-moi,  d£clmussez-moi !  and,  while  the 
man  is  drawing  off  her  shoe,  “  la  belle  avance 
un  coup  de  pied,  le  beau  galant  tombe  dans 
l’eau.” 

F.  ‘  Allons,  mie,  nous  promener,’  32  vv, 
Poesies  populaires  de  la  France,  MS.,  m,  fol. 
84,  No  16,  is  like  C.  The  lady  asks  the  man 
to  pull  off  her  shoes  before  he  kills  her.  The 
man  clutches  a  branch ;  the  woman  cuts  it 
away. 

G.  ‘  Le  Traitre  Noy6,’  Chants  pop.  du  Ve- 
lay  et  du  Forez,  Romania,  x,  199,  is  like  E,  F. 

H.  ‘  La  Fillette  et  le  Chevalier,’  Victor 
Smith,  Chants  pop.  du  Velay  et  du  Forez, 
Romania,  x,  198,  resembles  the  common  Pol¬ 
ish  ballad.  Pierre  rouses  his  love  early  in  the 
morning,  to  take  a  ride  with  him.  He  mounts 
her  on  his  horse,  and  when  they  come  to  a  lone¬ 
some  wood  bids  her  alight,  for  it  is  the  last  of 
her  days.  He  plunges  his  sword  into  her  heart, 
and  throws  her  into  a  river.  Her  father  and 
mother  come  searching  for  her,  and  are  in¬ 


formed  of  her  fate  by  a  shepherdess,  who  had 
witnessed  the  murder.  The  youngest  of  her 
three  brothers  plunges  into  the  water,  ex¬ 
claiming,  Who  threw  you  in  ?  An  angel  de¬ 
scends,  and  tells  him  it  was  her  lover.  A  less 
romantic  version,  described  in  a  note,  treats  of 
a  valet  who  is  tired  of  an  amour  with  a  ser¬ 
vant-girl.  He  is  judicially  condemned  to  be 
hanged  or  burned. 

‘  La  Fille  de  Saint-Martin  de  l’lle,’  Bujeaud, 
II,  226,  has  the  conclusion  of  the  third  class 
of  German  ballads.  A  mother  incites  her  son 
to  make  away  with  his  wife.  He  carries  her 
off  on  his  horse  to  a  wheat-field  [wood],  and 
kills  her  with  sword  and  dagger.  Returning, 
he  meets  his  wife’s  brother,  who  asks  why  his 
shoes  are  covered  with  blood.  He  says  he  has 
been  killing  rabbits.  The  brother  replies,  I 
see  by  your  paleness  that  you  have  been  kill¬ 
ing  my  sister.  So  Gerard  de  Nerval,  Les  Filles 
du  Feu,  CEuvres  Com.,  v,  134,  and  La  Bolieme 
galante  (1866),  p.  79:  ‘Rosine,’  Chants  pop. 
du  Velay,  etc.,  Romania,  x,  197. 

The  ballad  is  known  over  all  North  Italy, 
and  always  nearly  in  one  shape. 

A.  ‘  Monchisa,’  sixty-four  short  verses,  Ber- 
noni,  Canti  popolari  veneziani,  Puntata  y,  No 
2.  A  count’s  son  asks  Monchesa,  a  knight’s 
daughter,  in  marriage  in  the  evening,  espouses 
her  in  the  morning,  and  immediately  carries 
her  off.  When  they  are  “  half-way,”  she 
heaves  a  sigh,  which  she  says  is  for  father  and 
mother,  whom  she  shall  no  more  see.  The 
count  points  out  his  castle ;  he  has  taken  thirty- 
six  maids  there,  robbed  them  of  their  honor, 
and  cut  off  their  heads.  “  So  will  I  do  with  you 
when  we  are  there.”  The  lady  says  no  word 
till  she  is  asked  why  she  is  silent ;  then  re¬ 
quests  the  count  to  lend  her  his  sword ;  she 
wishes  to  cut  a  branch  to  shade  her  horse. 
The  moment  she  gets  the  sword  in  her  hand, 
she  plunges  it  into  his  heart ;  then  throws  the 
body  into  a  ditch.  On  her  way  back,  she 
meets  her  brother,  whom  she  tells  that  she  is 
looking  after  the  assassins  who  have  killed  her 
husband.  He  fears  it  was  she  ;  this  she  de¬ 
nies,  but  afterwards  says  she  must  go  to  Rome 
to  confess  a  great  sin.  There  she  obtains 
prompt  absolution. 


44 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


B.  ‘  La  Figlia  del  Conte,’  Adolf  Wolf,  Volks- 
lieder  aus  Yenetien,  No  73,  a,  34  vy,  b,  48 
yy.  Here  it  is  the  daughter  of  a  count  that 
marries  Malpreso,  the  son  of  a  knight.  He 
takes  her  to  France  immediately.  She  goes 
sixty  miles  (b)  without  speaking.  She  con¬ 
fesses  to  her  brother  what  she  has  done. 

C.  Righi,  Canti  popolari  veronesi,  58  vv,  No 
94*,  p.  30.  The  count’s  son  marries  Mam- 
presa,  a  knight’s  daughter.  For  thirty-six 
miles  she  does  not  speak ;  after  five  more  she 
sighs.  She  denies  to  her  brother  having 
killed  her  husband,  but  still  says  she  must  go 
to  the  pope  to  confess  an  old  sin ;  then  owns 
what  she  has  done. 

D.  ‘  La  Monferrina,’  48  vv,  Nigra,  Canzoni 
popolari  del  Piemonte,  in  Rivista  Contempo- 
ranea,  xxiv,  76.  The  lady  is  a  Monferrina, 
daughter  of  a  knight.  After  the  marriage 
they  travel  fifty  miles  without  speaking  to  one 
another.  Fifty-two  Monferrine  have  lost  their 
heads ;  the  bridegroom  does  not  say  why.  She 
goes  to  the  Pope  to  confess. 

E.  ‘La  Vendicatrice,’  an  incomplete  copy 
from  iUexandria,  18  vv  only,  Marcoaldi,  Canti 
popolari,  No  12,  p.  166,  like  D,  as  far  as  it 
goes.  Thirty-three  have  been  beheaded  before. 

F.  ‘  La  Inglese,’  40  vv,  Ferraro,  Canti  po¬ 
polari  di  Ferrara,  Cento  e  Pontelagoscuro,  No 
2,  p.  14.  The  count’s  son  marries  an  English 
girl,  daughter  of  a  knight.  She  never  speaks 
for  more  than  three  hundred  miles  ;  after  two 
hundred  more  she  sighs.  She  denies  having 
killed  her  husband ;  has  not  a  heart  of  that 
kind. 

G.  ‘  La  Libera  trice,’  24  vv,  Ferraro,  Canti 
popolari  monferrini,  No  3,  p.  4.  Gianfleisa  is 
the  lady’s  name.  When  invited  to  go  off,  she 
says,  If  you  wish  me  to  go,  lend  me  a  horse. 
Not  a  word  is  spoken  for  five  hundred  miles. 
The  man  (Gilardu)  points  out  his  castle,  and 
says  that  no  one  he  has  taken  there  has  ever 
come  back.  Gianfleisa  goes  home  without 
meeting  anybody. 

‘  Laura,’  Ferraro,  C.  p.  di  Pontelagoscuro, 
Rivista  di  Filologia  romanza,  H,  197,  and  C. 
p.  di  Ferrara,  etc.,  p.  86,  is  a  mixture  of  this 
ballad  with  another.  Cf.  ‘  La  Maledetta,’  Fer¬ 
raro,  C.  p.  monferrini,  No  27,  p.  35. 


Several  other  French  and  Italian  ballads 
have  common  points  with  Renauld,  Monchisa, 
etc.,  and  for  this  have  sometimes  been  improp¬ 
erly  grouped  with  them  :  e.  g.,  ‘  La  Fille  des 
Sables,’  Bujeaud,  n,  177  ff.  A  girl  sitting  by 
the  water-side  hears  a  sailor  sing,  and  asks 
him  to  teach  her  the  song.  He  says,  Come 
aboard,  and  I  will.  He  pushes  off,  and  by 
and  by  she  begins  to  weep.*  She  says,  My 
father  is  calling  me  to  supper.  “  You  will 
sup  with  me.”  “  My  mother  is  calling  me  to 
bed.”  “  You  will  sleep  with  me.”  They  go 
a  hundred  leagues,  and  not  a  word  said,  and 
at  last  reach  his  father’s  castle.  When  she  is 
undressing,  her  lace  gets  into  a  knot.  He  sug¬ 
gests  that  his  sword  would  cut  it.  She  plunges 
the  sword  into  her  heart.  So  ‘  Du  Beau  Ma- 
rinier,’  Beaurepaire,  p.  57  f,  and  Poesies  pop¬ 
ulates  de  la  France,  MS.,  in,  fol.  59,  No 
4  ;  ‘  L’Epee  Liberatrice,’  V.  Smith,  Chansons 
du  Velay,  etc.,  Romania,  vn,  69,  nearly; 
also  4 II  Corsaro,’  Nigra,  Rivista  Contempo- 
ranea,  xxiv,  p.  86  ff.  In  4  La  Monferrina  In- 
contaminata,’  Ferraro,  C.  p.  m.,  No  2,  p.  3,  a 
French  knight  invites  a  girl  to  go  off  with 
him,  and  mounts  her  behind  him.  They  ride 
five  hundred  miles  without  speaking,  then 
reach  an  inn,  after  which  the  story  is  the 
same.  So  Bernoni,  Puntata  ix,  No  2.  4  La 

Fille  du  Patissier,’  Paymaigre,  No  30,  p.  93, 
has  the  same  conclusion.  All  these,  except 
4  La  Fille  des  Sables,’  make  the  girl  ask  for 
the  sword  herself,  and  in  all  it  is  herself  that 
she  kills. 

The  Spanish  preserves  this  ballad  in  a  sin¬ 
gle  form,  the  earliest  printed  in  any  language, 
preceding,  by  a  few  years,  even  the  German 
broadsides  G,  H. 

4  Romance  de  Rico  Franco,’  36  vv,  44  Cancio- 
nero  de  Romances,  s.  a.,  fol.  191  :  Cane,  de 
Rom.,  ed.  de  1550,  fol.  202  :  ed.  de  1555,  fol. 
296  ;  ”  Wolf  and  Hofmann,  Primavera,  No 
119,  ii,  22  :  Duran,  No  296,  I,  160 :  Grimm, 
p.  252  :  Depping  and  Galiano,  1844,  n,  167  : 
Ochoa,  p.  7.  The  king’s  huntsmen  got  no 
game,  and  lost  the  falcons.  They  betook  them- 

*  So  far  there  is  agreement  in  *  La  Fille  du  Prince/  Pay¬ 
maigre,  No  32,  p.  106  ;  Poesies  pop.  de  la  France,  MS.,  in, 
fol.  133. 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


45 


selves  to  the  castle  of  Maynes,  where  was  a 
beautiful  damsel,  sought  by  seven  counts  and 
three  kings.  Rico  Franco  of  Aragon  carried 
her  off  by  force.  Nothing  is  said  of  a  rest  in 
a  wood,  or  elsewhere  ;  but  that  something  has 
dropped  out  here  is  shown  by  the  correspond¬ 
ing  Portuguese  ballad.  The  lady  wept.  Rico 
Franco  comforted  her  thus  :  If  you  are  weep¬ 
ing  for  father  and  mother,  you  shall  never  see 
them  more ;  and  if  for  your  brothers,  I  have 
killed  them  all  three.  I  am  not  weeping  for 
them,  she  said,  but  because  I  know  not  what 
my  fate  is  to  be.  Lend  me  your  knife  to  cut 
the  fringes  from  my  mantle,  for  they  are  no 
longer  fit  to  wear.  This  Rico  Franco  did,  and 
the  damsel  thrust  the  knife  into  his  breast. 
Thus  she  avenged  father,  mother,  and  broth¬ 
ers. 

A  Portuguese  ballad  has  recently  been  ob¬ 
tained  from  tradition  in  the  island  of  St. 
George,  Azores,  which  resembles  the  Spanish 
closely,  but  is  even  curter :  A,  ‘Romance  de 
Dom  Franco,’  30  vv;  B,  ‘Dona  Inez,’  a  frag¬ 
ment  of  18  vv ;  Braga,  Cantos  populares  do 
Archipelago  a^oriano,  No  48,  p.  316,  No  49, 
p.  317 :  Hartung’s  Romanceiro,  n,  61,  63. 
Dona  Inez  was  so  precious  in  the  eyes  of  her 
parents  that  they  gave  her  neither  to  duke 
nor  marquis.  A  knight  who  was  passing  [the 
Duke  of  Turkey,  B]  took  a  fancy  to  her,  and 
stole  her  away.  When  they  came  to  the  mid¬ 
dle  of  the  mountain  ridge  on  which  Dona  Inez 
lived,  the  knight  stopped  to  rest,  and  she  be¬ 
gan  to  weep.  From  this  point  Portuguese  A, 
and  B  so  far  as  it  is  preserved,  agree  very 
nearly  with  the  Spanish.* 

Certain  Breton  ballads  have  points  of  con¬ 
tact  with  the  Halewyn-Ulinger  class,  but,  like 
the  French  and  Italian  ballads  mentioned  on 
the  preceding  page,  have  more  important  di¬ 
vergences,  and  especially  the  characteristic  dis¬ 
tinction  that  the  woman  kills  herself  to  pre¬ 
serve  her  honor.  1.  ‘  Jeanne  Le  Roux,’  Luzel, 

*  The  Asturian  romance  communicated  in  two  copies  by 
Amador  de  los  Rios  to  Jahrbuch  fur  rom.  u.  eng.  Literatur, 
ill,  285,  No  2,  and  the  Portuguese  ‘  Romance  de  Romei- 
rinha,’  Braga,  Romanceiro,  No  9,  p.  24,  ‘  A  Romeira,’  Al- 
meida-Garrett,  in,  11,  are  not  parallels,  though  they  have 
been  cited  as  such. 

t  Magyar  Ncpkoltdsi  Gyiijtemeny.  Uj  Folyam,  szerkesz- 


I,  324  ff,  in  two  versions ;  Poesies  pop.  de  la 
France,  MS.,  m,  fol.  182.  The  sieur  La 
Tremblaie  attempts  the  abduction  of  Jeanne 
from  the  church  immediately  after  her  mar¬ 
riage  ceremony.  As  he  is  about  to  compel 
her  to  get  up  on  the  crupper  of  his  horse,  she 
asks  for  a  knife  to  cut  her  bridal  girdle,  which 
had  been  drawn  too  tight.  He  gives  her  the 
choice  of  three,  and  she  stabs  herself  in  the 
heart.  La  Tremblaie  remarks ,  I  have  car¬ 
ried  off  eighteen  young  brides,  and  Jeanne  is 
the  nineteenth,  words  evidently  taken  from 
the  mouth  of  a  Halewyn,  and  not  belonging 
here.  2.  Le  Marquis  de  Coatredrez,  Luzel,  I, 
336  ff,  meets  a  young  girl  on  the  road,  going 
to  the  pardon  of  Gueodet,  and  forces  her  on 
to  his  horse.  On  the  way  and  at  his  house 
she  vainly  implores  help.  He  takes  her  to  the 
garden  to  gather  flowers.  She  asks  for  his 
knife  to  shorten  the  stems,  and  kills  herself. 
Early  in  the  morning  the  door  of  the  chateau 
is  broken  in  by  Kerninon,  foster-brother  of 
the  victim,  vtfho  forces  Coatredrez  to  fight, 
and  runs  him  through.  3.  ‘  Rozmelchon,’  Liv 
zel,  I,  308 ff,  in  three  versions,  and,  4,  ‘La  Fil- 
leule  de  du  Guesclin,’  Villemarqud,  Barzaz- 
Breiz,  6th  ed.,  212  ff,  are  very  like  2.  The 
wicked  Rozmelchon  is  burned  in  his  chateau 
in  Luzel’s  first  copy  ;  the  other  two  do  not 
bring  him  to  punishment.  Yillemarqu^’s  vil¬ 
lain  is  an  Englishman,  and  has  his  head  cloven 
by  du  Guesclin.  5.  ‘  Marivonnic,’  Luzel,  I, 
350  ff,  a  pretty  young  girl,  is  carried  off  by 
an  English  vessel,  the  captain  of  which  shows 
himself  not  a  whit  behind  the  feudal  seign¬ 
eurs  in  ferocity.  The  young  girl  throws  her¬ 
self  into  the  water. 

Magyar.  Five  versions  from  recent  tradi¬ 
tions,  all  of  them  interesting,  are  given  in 
Arany  and  Gyulai’s  collection  of  Hungarian 
popular  poetry,  ‘  Moln&r  Anna,’  I,  137  ff, 
Nos  l-5.f  —  A,  p.  141,  No.  3.  A  man,  name¬ 
less  here,  but  called  in  the  other  versions 

tik  es  kiadjak  Arany  Laszlo  es  Gyulai  Pal.  Collection  of 
Magyar  Popular  Poetry,  New  Series,  Pest,  1872,  2  vols. 
Aigner,  has  blended  Nos  4  and  3  (C,  A)  in  ‘Martin  und 
Aennchen,’  Ungarische  Yolksdichtungen,  p.  170,  and  has 
translated  No  1  (E),  at  p.  120,  *  Molnar  Anna,’  in  each  case 
obscuring  or  omitting  one  or  two  traits  which  are  impor¬ 
tant  for  a  comparative  view. 


46 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


Martin  Ajg6,  or  Martin  Sajg6,  invites  Anna 
Miller  to  go  off  with  him.  She  refuses  ;  she 
has  a  young  child  and  a  kind  husband. 
“  Come,”  he  says  ;  “  I  have  six  palaces,  and 
will  put  you  in  the  seventh,”  and  persists  so 
long  that  he  prevails  at  last.  They  went  a 
long  way,  till  they  came  to  the  middle  of  a 
green  wood.  He  asked  her  to  sit  down  in  the 
shade  of  a  branchy  tree  (so  all)  ;  he  would 
lie  in  her  lap,  and  she  was  to  look  into  his 
head  (a  point  found  in  all  the  copies).  But 
look  not  up  into  the  tree,  he  said.  He  went 
to  sleep  (so  B,  D)  ;  she  looked  up  into  the 
tree,  and  saw  six  fair  maids  hanging  there 
(so  all  but  E).  She  thought  to  herself,  He 
will  make  me  the  seventh  !  (also  B,  D).  A 
tear  fell  on  the  face  of  the  “  brave  sir,”  and 
waked  him.  You  have  looked  up  into  the 
tree,  he  said.  “  No,  but  three  orphans  passed, 
and  I  thought  of  my  child.”  He  bade  her 
go  up  into  the  tree.  She  was  not  used  to  go 
first,  she  said.  He  led  the  way.  She  seized 
the  opportunity,  tore  his  sword  from  its  sheath 
(so  C),  and  hewed  off  his  head.  She  then 
wrapped  herself  in  his  cloak,  sprang  upon  his 
horse,  and  returned  home,  where  (in  all  the 
copies,  as  in  this)  she  effected  a  reconcilement 
with  her  husband.  B,  p.  138,  No  2,  agrees 
closely  with  the  foregoing.  Martin  Ajg6  calls 
to  Anna  Miller  to  come  with  him  a  long  way 
into  the  wilderness  (so  D,  E).  He  boasts  of 
no  palaces  in  this  version.  He  calls  Anna  a 
long  time,  tempts  her  a  long  time,  drags  her 
on  to  his  horse,  and  carries  her  off.  The  scene 
under  the  tree  is  repeated.  Anna  pretends 
(so  D,  E)  that  the  tear  which  drops  on  Mar¬ 
tin’s  face  is  dew  from  the  tree,  and  he  retorts, 
How  can  it  be  dew  from  the  tree,  when  the 
time  is  high  noon  ?  His  sword  falls  out  of 
its  sheath  as  he  is  mounting  the  tree,  and  he 
asks  her  to  hand  it  to  him.  She  throws  it 
up  (so  E),  and  it  cuts  his  throat  in  two. 
Rightly  served,  Martin  Ajgo,  she  says  :  why 
did  you  lure  me  from  home  ?  C,  p.  144, 
No  4.  Martin  Sajg6  tells  Anna  Miller  that 
he  has  six  stone  castles,  and  is  building  a 
seventh.  It  is  not  said  that  he  goes  to  sleep. 
As  in  A,  Anna  pulls  his  sword  from  the  scab¬ 
bard.  D,  p.  146,  No  5.  Here  reappears  the 


very  important  feature  of  the  wonderland : 
“  Come,  let  us  go,  Anna  Miller,  a  long  jour¬ 
ney  into  the  wilderness,  to  a  place  that  flows 
with  milk  and  honey.”  Anna  insists,  as  be¬ 
fore,  that  Martin  shall  go  up  the  tree  first. 
He  puts  down  his  sword ;  she  seizes  it,  and 
strikes  off  his  head  with  one  blow.  E,  p.  137, 
No  1,  is  somewhat  defective,  but  agrees  essen¬ 
tially  with  the  others.  Martin  Ajg6  calls 
Anna ;  she  will  not  come ;  he  carries  her  off. 
He  lets  his  sword  fall  as  he  is  climbing,  and 
asks  Anna  to  hand  it  up  to  him.  She  throws 
it  up,  as  in  B,  and  it  cuts  his  back  in  two. 

Neus,  in  his  Ehstnische  Yolkslieder,  main¬ 
tains  the  affinity  of  ‘  Ivallewisohnes  Tod,’  No 
2,  p.  5,  with  the  Ulinger  ballads,  and  even  of 
his  Holepi  with  the  Dutch  Halewyn.  The 
resemblance  is  of  the  most  distant,  and  what 
there  is  must  be  regarded  as  casual.  The  same 
of  the  Finnish  ‘  Ivojoins  Sohn,’  Schroter,  Fin- 
nische  Runen,  p.  114,  115;  ‘  Kojosen  Poika,’ 
Lonnrot,  Kanteletar,  p.  279. 

In  places  where  a  ballad  has  once  been 
known,  the  story  will  often  be  remembered 
after  the  verses  have  been  wholly  or  partly 
forgotten,  and  the  ballad  will  be  resolved  into 
a  prose  tale,  retaining,  perhaps,  some  scraps  of 
verse,  and  not  infrequently  taking  up  new 
matter,  or  blending  with  other  traditions.  Nat¬ 
urally  enough,  a  ballad  and  an  equivalent  tale 
sometimes  exist  side  by  side.  It  has  already 
been  mentioned  that  Jamieson,  who  had  not 
found  this  ballad  in  Scotland,  had  often  come 
upon  the  story  in  the  form  of  a  tale  inter¬ 
spersed  with  verse.  Birlinger  at  one  time  (1860) 
had  not  been  able  to  obtain  the  ballad  in  the 
Swabian  Oberland  (where  it  has  since  been 
found  in  several  forms),  but  only  a  story 
agreeing  essentially  with  the  second  class  of 
German  ballads.  According  to  this  tradition, 
a  robber,  who  was  at  the  same  time  a  porten¬ 
tous  magician,  enticed  the  twelve  daughters 
of  a  miller,  one  after  another,  into  a  wood, 
and  hanged  eleven  of  them  on  a  tree,  but 
was  arrested  by  a  hunter,  the  brother  of  the 
twelve,  before  he  could  dispatch,  the  last,  and 
was  handed  over  to  justice.  The  object  of 
the  murders  was  to  obtain  blood  for  magical 
purposes.  This  story  had,  so  to  speak,  natu- 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


47 


ralized  itself  in  the  locality,  and  the  place 
where  the  robber’s  house  had  been  and  that 
where  the  tree  had  stood  were  pointed  out. 
The  hunter-brother  was  by  some  •  conceived 
of  as  the  Wild  Huntsman,  and  came  to  the 
rescue  through  the  air  with  a  fearful  baying 
of  dog&  (Birlinger  in  Volksthiimliches  aus 
Schwaben,  I,  368,  No  592,  and  Germania,  1st 
Ser.,  v,  372.) 

The  story  of  the  German  ballad  P  has  at¬ 
tached  itself  to  localities  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Weissenbach,  Aargau,  and  is  told  with  mod¬ 
ifications  that  connect  it  with  the  history  of 
the  Guggi-,  or  Schongauer-,  bad.  A  rich  man 
by  lewd  living  had  become  a  leper.  The  devil 
put  it  into  his  head  that  he  could  be  cured  by 
bathing  in  the  blood  of  twelve  [seven]  pure 
maidens.  He  seized  eleven  at  a  swoop,*  while 
they  were  on  their  way  to  church,  and  hanged 
them,  and  the  next  day  enticed  away  a  miller’s 
daughter,  who  was  delivered  from  death  as  in 
the  ballad.  A  medicinal  spring  rose  near  the 
fatal  tree.  (Rochholz,  i,  22.)  No  pure  version 
of  this  ballad  has  been  obtained  in  the  Harz 
region,  though  a  mixed  form  has  already  been 
spoken  of ;  but  ‘  Der  Reiter  in  Seiden,’  Prohle, 
Marchen  fiir  die  Jugend,  No  32,  p.  136,  which 
comes  from  the  western  Harz,  or  from  some 
place  further  north,  on  the  line  between  Ivyff- 
haiiser  and  Hamburg,  is,  roughly  speaking, 
only  ‘  Gert  Olbert  ’  turned  into  prose,  with  a 
verse  or  two  remaining.  ‘  Der  betrogene  Be- 
triiger,’  from  Miihlbach,  Muller’s  Siebenbiirg- 
isclie  Sagen,  No  418,  p.  309,  has  for  its  hero 
a  handsome  young  man,  addicted  to  women, 
who  obtains  from  the  devil  the  power  of  mak¬ 
ing  them  follow  his  piping,  on  the  terms  that 
evei’y  twelfth  soul  is  to  be  the  devil’s  share. 
He  had  taken  eleven  to  a  wood,  and  hanged 
them  on  a  tree  after  he  had  satisfied  his  de¬ 
sire.  The  brother  of  a  twelfth  substituted 
himself  for  his  sister,  dressed  in  her  clothes, 
snatched  the  rope  from  the  miscreant,  and  ran 
him  up  on  the  nearest  bough ;  upon  which  a 
voice  was  heard  in  the  wind,  that  cried  The 
twelfth  soul  is  mine.  Grundtvig,  in  his  En- 
gelske  og  skotske  Folkeviser,  p.  249,  gives  his 
recollections  of  a  story  that  he  had  heard  in 
his  youth  which  has  a  catastrophe  resembling 


that  of  English  C-P.  A  charcoal  burner  had 
a  way  of  taking  up  women  beside  him  on  his 
wagon,  and  driving  them  into  a  wood,  where 
he  forced  them  to  take  off  their  clothes,  then 
killed  them,  and  sunk  them  with  heavy  stones 
in  a  deep  moss.  At  last  a  girl  whom  he  had 
carried  off  in  this  way  got  the  advantage  of 
him  by  inducing  him  to  turn  away  while  she 
was  undressing,  and  then  pushing  him  into 
the  moss.  Something  similar  is  found  in  the 
conclusion  of  a  robber  story  in  Grundtvig’s 
Danske  Folkeminder,  1861,  No  30,  p.  108, 
and  in  a  modern  Danish  ballad  cited  in  Dan- 
marks  gamle  Folkeviser,  iv,  24,  note.** 

Another  Transylvanian  tale,  Schuster,  p. 
433,  has  a  fountain,  a  thirsty  bride,  and  doves 
(two  or  three)  that  sing  to  her,  traits  which 
have  perhaps  been  derived  from  some  Ulinger 
ballad ;  but  the  fountain  is  of  an  entirely  dif¬ 
ferent  character,  and  the  doves  serve  a  differ¬ 
ent  purpose.  The  tale  is  a  variety  of  ‘  Fitch- 
ers  Vogel,’  Grimms,  No  46,  and  belongs  to  the 
class  of  stories  to  which  ‘  Bluebeard,’  from  its 
extensive  popularity,  has  given  name.  The 
magician  of  ‘  Fitcher’s  Vogel  ’  and  of  ‘  Blue¬ 
beard’  becomes,  or  remains,  a  preternatural 
being  (a  hill-man)  further  north,  as  in  Grundt¬ 
vig’s  Gamle  danske  Minder,  1857,  No  312,  p. 
182.  There  is  a  manifest  affinity  between 
these  three  species  of  tales  and  our  ballad 
(also  between  the  German  and  Danish  tales 
and ‘the  Scandinavian  ballad  of  ‘Rosmer’), 
but  the  precise  nature  of  this  affinity  it  is  im¬ 
possible  to  expound.  ‘  Bluebeard,’  ‘  La  Barbe 
Bleue,’  Perrault,  Histoires  ou  Contes  du  temps 
pass6,  1697,  p.  57  (Lefevre),  has  a  special  re¬ 
semblance  to  the  German  ballads  of  the  second 
class  in  the  four  calls  to  sister  Anne,  which 
represent  the  cries  to  father,  mother,  and  broth¬ 
er,  and  agrees  with  these  ballads  as  to  the 
means  by  which  the  death  of  the  malefactor 
is  brought  about. 

Looking  back  now  over  the  whole  field  cov¬ 
ered  by  this  ballad,  we  observe  that  the  frame¬ 
work  of  the  story  is  essentially  the  same  in 
English,  Dutch,  Danish,  Swedish,  Norwegian  ; 
in  the  first  class  of  the  German  ballads  ;  in 
Polish  A;  in  French,  Italian,  Spanish,  Por¬ 
tuguese,  and  Magyar.  The  woman  delivers 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


48  ' 

herself  from  death  by  some  artifice,*  and  re¬ 
taliates  upon  the  man  the  destruction  he  had 
intended  for  her.  The  second  form  of  the  Ger¬ 
man  ballad  attributes  the  deliverance  of  the 
woman  to  her  brother,  and  also  the  punish¬ 
ment  of  the  murderer.  The  third  form  of  the 
German  ballad  makes  the  woman  lose  her  life, 
and  her  murderer,  for  the  most  part,  to  suffer 
the  penalty  of  the  law,  though  in  some  cases 
the  brother  takes  immediate  vengeance.  Polish 
B-K  may  be  ranked  with  the  second  German 
class,  and  O-CC  still  better  with  the  third ; 
but  the  brother  appears  in  only  a  few  of  these, 
and,  when  he  appears,  counts  for  nothing.  The 
Wendish  and  the  Bohemian  ballad  have  the 
incident  of  fraternal  vengeance,  though  other¬ 
wise  less  like  the  German.  The  Servian  bal¬ 
lad,  a  slight  thing  at  best,  is  still  less  like,  but 
ranks  with  the  third  German  class.  The  old¬ 
est  Icelandic  copy  is  altogether  anomalous,  and 
also  incomplete,  but  seems  to  imply  the  death 
of  the  woman :  later  copies  suffer  the  woman 
to  escape,  without  vengeance  upon  the  mur¬ 
derer. 

It  is  quite  beyond  question  that  the  third 
class  of  German  ballad  is  a  derivation  from 
the  second.f  Of  the  versions  T-Z,  Z  alone  has 
preserved  clear  traits  of  the  marvellous.  A 
king’s  daughter  is  enticed  from  home  by  Ul¬ 
rich’s  singing,  and  is  warned  of  her  impending 
fate  by  the  dove,  as  in  Class  II.  The  other 
ballads  have  the  usual  marks  of  degeneracy, 
a  dropping  or  obscuring  of  marvellous  and 
romantic  incidents,  and  a  declension  in  the 
rank  and  style  of  the  characters.  T,  to  be 
sure,  has  a  hazel,  and  Y  a  tree-stump  and  a 
spring,  and  in  T  Ulrich  offers  to  teach  Ann- 
chen  bird-song,  but  these  traits  have  lost  all 
significance.  Knight  and  lady  sink  to  ordinary 
man  and  maid ;  for  though  in  Y  the  woman  is 
called  a  king’s  daughter,  the  ^opening  stanzas 
of  Y  are  borrowed  from  a  different  ballad. 
Ulrich  retains  so  much  of  the  knight  that  he 
rides  to  Annchen’s  house,  in  the  first  stanza 

*  Very  little  remains  of  the  artifice  in  Polish  A.  The 
idea  seems  to  be  that  the  girl  pretends  to  be  curious  about 
the  sword  in  order  to  get  it  into  her  hands.  But  the  whole 
story  is  told  in  ten  stanzas. 

t  I  accept  and  repeat  Grundtvig’s  views  as  to  the  relation 


of  T,  but  he  apparently  goes  on  foot  with  her 
to  the  wood,  and  this  is  the  rule  in  all  the 
other  ballads  of  this  class.  As  Ulrich  has  lost 
his  horse,  so  the  brother,  in  T,  U,  V,  X,  has 
lost  his  sword,  or  the  use  of  it,  and  in  all  these 
(also,  superfluously,  in  W)  Ulrich,  like  a  com¬ 
mon  felon  as  he  was,  is  broken  on  the  wheel. 

That  the  woman  should  save  her  life  by  her 
own  craft  and  courage  is  certainly  a  more 
primitive  conception  than  that  she  should  de¬ 
pend  upon  her  brother,  and  the  priority  of 
this  arrangement  of  the  plot  is  supported,  if 
not  independently  proved,  by  the  concurrence, 
as  to  this  point,  of  so  many  copies  among  so 
many  nations,  as  also  by  the  accordance  of 
various  popular  tales.  The  second  German 
form  must  therefore,  so  far  forth,  be  regarded 
as  a  mddification  of  the  first.  Among  the  sev¬ 
eral  devices,  again,  which  the  woman  employs 
in  order  to  get  the  murderer  into  her  power, 
the  original  would  seem  to  be  her  inducing  him 
to  lay  his  head  in  her  lap,  which  gives  her  the 
opportunity  (by  the  use  of  charms  or  runes,  in 
English  A,  Danish  G,  Norwegian  F,  H,  and 
one  form  of  B)  to  put  him  into  a  deep  sleep. 
The  success  of  this  trick  no  doubt  implies 
considerable  simplicity  on  the  part  of  the  vic¬ 
tim  of  it ;  not  more,  however,  than  is  else¬ 
where  witnessed  in  preternatural  beings,  whose 
wits  are  frequently  represented  as  no  match  for 
human  shrewdness.  Some  of  the  Scandina¬ 
vian  ballads  are  not  liable  to  the  full  force  of 
this  objection,  whatever  that  may  be,  for  they 
make  the  knight  express  a  suspicion  of  treach¬ 
ery,  and  the  lady  solemnly  asseverate  that  she 
will  not  kill  [fool,  beguile]  him  in  his  sleep. 
And  so,  when  he  is  fast  bound,  she  cries  out, 
Wake  up,  for  I  will  not  kill  thee  in  thy 
sleep !  This  last  circumstance  fe  wanting  in 
hardly  any  of  the  Scandinavian  ballads,  where¬ 
as  the  previous  compact  is  found  only  in  Dan¬ 
ish  E,  F,  G,  H,  L,  Swedish  A,  Norwegian  A, 
and  the  Icelandic  ballad.  Not  occurring  in 
any  of  the  older  Danish  copies,  it  may  be  that 

of  the  three  forms  of  the  story.  And  with  regard  to  the  his¬ 
tory  of  the  ballad  generally,  this  is  but  one  of  many  cases  in 
which  much  or  most  of  the  work  had  been  done  to  my  hand 
in  Daumarks  gamle  Folkeviser. 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGIIT 


49 


the  compact  is  an  after-thought,  and  was  in¬ 
serted  to  qualify  the  improbability.  But  the 
lady’s  equivocation  is  quite  of  a  piece  with 
Memering’s  oath  in  ‘  Ravengaard  and  Memer- 
ing,’  Gruudtvig,  No  13,  and  King  Dietrich’s 
in  the  Dietrichsaga,  Unger,  c.  222,  p.  206.* 

English  A  and  all  the  Danish,  Swedish,  and 
Norwegian  ballads  employ  the  stratagem  of 
lulling  the  man  to  sleep,  but  these  are  not  the 
only  ballads  in  which  the  man  lays  his  head 
in  the  woman’s  lap.  This  trait  is  observed 
in  nearly  all  German  ballads  of  the  second 
and  third  class,  in  all  the  well-preserved  ones, 
and  also  in  the  Magyar  ballad.  With  regard 
to  the  German  ballads,  however,  it  is  purpose¬ 
less  (for  it  does  not  advance  the  action  of  the 
drama  in  the  least),  and  must  be  regarded  as 
a  relic  of  an  earlier  forin.f  English  B-P  and 
all  the  French  ballads  dispose  of  the  traitor 
by  a  watery  death.  The  scene  is  shifted  from 
a  wood  to  a  sea-coast,  pool,  or  river  bank,  per¬ 
haps  to  suit  the  locality  to  which  the  ballad 
had  wandered.  In  English  B,  where,  appar¬ 
ently  under  the  influence  of  other  ballads, |  the 
lady  is  forced  to  wade  into  water  up  to  her 
chin,  the  knight  is  pushed  off  his  horse  when 
bending  over  to  give  a  last  kiss  for  which  he 
had  been  asked  ;  in  English  C-P  and  French 
A,  B,  the  man  is  induced  to  turn  his  face  to 
save  the  woman’s  modesty;  in  French  C-E  he 
is  made  to  pull  off  her  stockings  or  shoes,  and 
then,  wdiile  off  his  guai’d,  pitched  into  a  sea  or 
river.  This  expedient  is  sufficiently  trivial ; 
but  still  more  so,  and  grazing  on  the  farcical, 
is  that  which  is  made  use  of  in  the  Dutch  bal¬ 
lad  and  those  of  the  German  first  class,  the 
woman’s  persuading  the  man  to  take  off  his 
fine  coat  lest  it  should  be  spattered  with  her 
blood,  and  cutting  off  his  head  with  his  own 
sword  while  he  is  thus  occupied.  The  Span¬ 
ish  and  Portuguese  ballads  make  the  lady  bor- 

*  Memering  was  required  by  his  adversary  to  swear  that 
he  knew  not  of  the  sword  Adelring,  and  took  his  oath  that 
he  knew  of  nothing  but  the  hilt  being  above  ground,  which 
was  accepted  as  satisfactory.  Presently  he  pulls  Adelring 
out  of  the  ground,  into  which  he  had  thrust  the  blade,  and, 
being  accused  of  perjury,  triumphantly  rejoins  that  he  had 
sworn  that  he  knew  of  nothing  but  the  hilt  being  above  ground. 
Dietrich  does  the  same  in  his  duel  with  Sigurd  Swain. 

t  Magyar  A  is  entirely  peculiar.  Apparently  the  man 

7 


row  the  knight’s  knife  to  remove  some  of  the 
trimming  of  her  dress,  and  in  the  Italian  she 
borrows  his  sword  to  cut  a  bough  to  shade  her 
horse ;  for  in  Italian  the  halt  in  the  wood  is 
completely  forgotten,  and  the  last  half  of  the 
action  takes  place  on  horseback.  All  these 
contrivances  plainly  have  less  claim  to  be  re¬ 
garded  as  primary  than  that  of  binding  the 
murderer  after  he  has  been  put  to  sleep. 

The  knight  in  English  A  is  called  an  Elf, 
and  as  such  is  furnished  with  an  enchanting 
horn,  which  is  replaced  by  a  harp  of  similar 
properties  in  B,  where,  however,  the  male 
personage  has  neither  name  nor  any  kind  of 
designation.  The  elf-horn  of  English  A  is 
again  represented  by  the  seductive  song  of  the 
Dutch  ballad  and  of  German  G-R  and  Z. 
Though  the  lady  is  not  lured  away  in  the 
Scandinavian  ballads  by  irresistible  music, § 
Danish  A,  E,  Norwegian  A,  B,  and  Swedish 
D  present  to  her  the  prospect  of  being  taken 
to  an  elf-land,  or  elysium,  and  there  are  traces 
of  this  in  Danish  G  and  D  also,  and  in  Pol¬ 
ish  Q.  The  tongue  that  talks  after  the  head 
is  off,  in  the  Dutch  ballad  and  in  German  A, 
B,  C,  E,  is  another  mark  of  an  unearthly 
being.  Halewyn,  Ulver,  Gert  Olbert,  like  the 
English  knight,  are  clearly  supernatural, 
though  of  a  nondescript  type.  The  elf  in 
English  A  is  not  to  be  interpreted  too  strictly, 
for  the  specific  elf  is  not  of  a  sanguinary  turn, 
as  these  so  conspicuously  are.  He  is  compar¬ 
atively  innocuous,  like  the  hill-man  Young 
Akin,  in  another  English  ballad,  who  likewise 
entices  away  a  woman  by  magical  music,  but 
only  to  make  her  his  wife.  But  the  elf-knight 
and  the  rest  seem  to  delight  in  bloodshed  for 
its  own  sake ;  for,  as  Grundtvig  has  pointed 
out,  there  is  no  other  apparent  motive  for 
murder  in  English  A,  B,  the  Norwegian  bal¬ 
lads,  Danish  A,  Swedish  A,  B,  or  German 

lays  his  head  in  the  woman’s  lap  that  he  may  know,  by  the 
falling  of  her  tears,  when  she  has  disobeyed  his  command 
not  to  look  into  the  tree.  This  is  like  ‘  Bluebeard,’  and 
rather  subtle  for  a  ballad. 

|  ‘  Child  Waters,’  ‘  The  Fair  Flower  of  Northumberland.’ 

§  The  murderer  has  a  horn  in  Swedish  C,  D,  as  also  in 
the  Dutch  Halewyn  and  the  German  A,  B,  C,  B,  and  the 
horn  may  be  of  magical  power,  but  it  is  not  distinctly  de¬ 
scribed  as  such. 


50 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


A-E.*  This  is  true  again,  for  one  reason  or 
another,  of  others  of  the  German  ballads,  of 
the  French,  of  most  of  the  Italian,  and  of  the 
Hungarian  ballads. 

The  nearest  approach  to  the  Elf-knight, 
Halewyn,  etc.,  is  perhaps  Quintalin,  in  the 
saga  of  Samson  the  Fair.  He  was  son  of  the 
miller  Galin.  Nobody  knew  who  his  mother 
was,  but  many  were  of  the  mind  that  Galin 
might  have  had  him  of  a  “  goddess,”  an  elf 
or  troll  woman,  who  lived  under  the  mill  force. 
He  was  a  thief,  and  lay  in  the  woods;  was 
versed  in  many  knave’s  tricks,  and  had  also 
acquired  agreeable  arts.  He  was  a  great  mas¬ 
ter  of  the  harp,  and  would  decoy  women  into 
the  woods  with  his  playing,  keep  them  as 
long  as  he  liked,  and  send  them  home  preg¬ 
nant  to  their  fathers  or  husbands.  A  king’s 
daughter,  Valentina,  is  drawn  on  by  his  music 
deep  into  the  woods,  but  is  rescued  by  a 
friendly  power.  Some  parts  of  her  dress  and 
ornaments,  which  she  had  laid  off  in  her  rapid 
following  up  of  the  harping,  are  afterwards 
found,  with  a  great  quantity  of  precious  things, 
in  the  subaqueous  cave  of  Quintalin’s  mother, 
who  is  a  complete  counterpart  to  Grendel’s, 
and  was  probably  borrowed  from  Be6wulf.f 
This  demi-elf  Quintalin  is  a  tame  personage 
by  the  side  of  Grendel  or  of  Halewyn.  Hale¬ 
wyn  does  not  devour  his  victims,  like  Grendel : 
Quintalin  does  not  even  murder  his.  He  al¬ 
lures  women  with  his  music  to  make  them  serve 
his  lust.  We  may  infer  that  he  would  plun¬ 
der  them,  for  he  is  a  notorious  thief.  Even 
two  of  the  oldest  Danish  ballads,  B,  C,  and 
again  Danish  I  and  Swedish  C,  make  the 

*  The  scenery  of  the  halting-place  in  the  wood  —  the 
bloody  streams  in  Danish  A,  B,  D,  H,  L,  K,  the  blood-girt 
spring  in  German  H,  J,  K,  L,  O,  P,  Q  —  is  also,  to  say  the 
least,  suggestive  of  something  horribly  uncanny.  These  are 
undoubtedly  ancient  features,  though  the  spring,  as  the  Dan¬ 
ish  editor  observes,  has  no  longer  any  significancy  in  the  Ger¬ 
man  ballads,  because  in  all  of  them  the  previous  victims  are 
said  to  have  been  hanged. 

t  The  saga  in  Bjorner’s  Nordiska  Kampadater,  c.  5-7. 

.  t  Danish  E,  I,  L,  and  even  A,  make  the  knight  suggest  to 
the  lady  that  she  should  get  her  gold  together  while  he  is 
saddling  liis  horse  ;  but  this  is  a  commonplace  found  in  other 
cases  of  elopement,  and  by  itself  warrants  no  conclusion  as  to 
the  knight’s  rapacity.  See  ‘  Samson,’  Grundtvig,  No  6,  C 
5  ;  ‘Bibold  og  Guldborg,’  No  82,  C  13,  E  14,  etc. ;  ‘Redse- 


treackerous  knigbt  as  lecherous  as  bloody,  and 
so  with  German  J,  K,  L,  O,  P,  Q,  R,  S,  and 
Italian  A,  B,  C,  E,  F.  This  trait  is  wanting 
in  Danish  D,  where,  though  traces  of  the  • 
originally  demonic  nature  of  the  knight  re¬ 
main,  the  muckle  gold  of  the  maids  already 
appears  as  the  motive  for  the  murders.  In  the 
later  Danish  E-H,  K,  L,  and  Swedish  C,  D, 
the  original  elf  or  demon  has  sunk  to  a  re¬ 
morseless  robber,  generally  with  brothers,  sis¬ 
ters,  or  underlings  for  accomplices.  $  This 
is  preeminently  his  character  in  English  C- 
F,  in  nearly  all  the  forty  Polish  ballads,  and 
in  the  two  principal  ballads  of  the  German 
second  class,  G,  H,  though  English  D,  Ger¬ 
man  H,  and  Polish  Q  retain  a  trace  of  the 
supernatural :  the  first  in  the  charm  by  means 
of  which  the  knight  compels  the  maid  to  quit 
her  parents,  the  second  in  the  bloody  spring, 
and  the  last  in  the  golden  mountains.  There 
is  nothing  that  unequivocally  marks  the  rob¬ 
ber  in  the  other  German  ballads  of  the  second 
class  and  in  those  of  the  third.  The  question 
‘  Weinst  du  um  deines  Vaters  Gut?’  in  I-L, 
O-S,  T-W,  is  hardly  decisive,  and  only  in  W 
and  Z  is  it  expressly  said  that  the  maid  had 
taken  valuable  things  with  her  (as  in  Swed¬ 
ish  D,  Norwegian  A,  B,  English  D-F).  J-L, 
O-S,  give  us  to  understand  that  the  lady  had 
lopt  her  honor, §  but  in  all  the  rest,  except  the 
anomalous  Z,  the  motive  for  murder  is  insuffi¬ 
cient.  || 

The  woman  in  these  ballads  is  for  the  most 
part  nameless,  or  bears  a  stock  name  to  which 
no  importance  can  be  attached.  Not  so  with 
the  names  of  the  knight.  Most  of  these  are 

lille  og  Medelvold,’  No  271,  A  21,  B  20 ;  272,  Bilag  3,  st.  8  ; 
270,  18,  etc. 

§  So  perhaps  a  Polish  ballad  in  Wojcicki,  I,  38,  akin  to 
the  other  John  and  Katie  ballads. 

II  It  is  well  known  that  in  the  Middle  Ages  the  blood  of 
children  or  of  virgins  was  reputed  a  specific  for  leprosy  (see, 
e.  g.,  Cassel  in  the  Weimar  Jahrbiicher,  i,  408.)  Some  hav& 
thought  to  find  in  this  fact  an  explanation  of  the  murders  . 
in  these  ballads  and  in  the  Bluebeard  stories,  and,  according 
to  Rochholz,  this  theory  has  been  adopted  into  popular  tra¬ 
dition  in  the  Aargau.  So  far  as  this  cycle  of  ballads  is  con¬ 
cerned,  there  is  as  much  ground  for  holding  that  the  blood 
was  wanted  to  cure  leprosy  as  for  believing  that  the  gold  was 
wanted  for  aurum  potabile. 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


51 


peculiar,  and  the  Northern  ones,  though  su¬ 
perficially  of  some  variety,  have  yet  likeness 
enough  to  tempt  one  to  seek  for  a  common 
original.  Grundtvig,  with  considerable  diffi¬ 
dence,  suggests  Oldemor  as  a  possible  ground- 
form.  lie  conceives  that  the  II  of  some  of  the 
Scandinavian  names  may  be  a  relic  of  a  fore¬ 
going  Herr.  The  initial  H  would  easily  come 
or  go.  Given  such  a  name  as  Hollemen  (Dan¬ 
ish  C),  vre  might  expect  it  to  give  place  to 
Halewyn,  which  is  both  a  family  and  a  local 
name  in  Flanders,  if  the  ballad  should  pass 
into  the  Low  Countries  from  Denmark,  a  der¬ 
ivation  that  Grundtvig  is  far  from  asserting. 
So  Ulinger,  a  local  appellation,  might  be  sub¬ 
stituted  for  the  Ulver  of  Danish  A.  Grundt¬ 
vig,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind,  declines  to  be 
responsible  for  the  historical  correctness  of 
this  genealogy,  and  would  be  still  less  willing 
to  undertake  an  explanation  of  the  name  Ol¬ 
demor. 

In  place  of  Oldemor,  Professor  Sophus 
Bugge,  in  a  recent  article,  marked  by  his  char¬ 
acteristic  sharp-sightedness  and  ingenuity,  has 
proposed  Hollevern,  Holevern,  or  Olevern  as 
the  base-form  of  all  the  Northern  names  for 
the  bloody  knight,  and  he  finds  in  this  name 
a  main  support  for  the  entirely  novel  and 
somewhat  startling  hypothesis  that  the  ballad 
we  are  dealing  with  is  a  wild  shoot  from  the 
story  of  Judith  and  Holofernes.*  His  argu¬ 
ment,  given  as  briefly  as  possible,  is  as  follows. 

That  the  Bible  story  was  generally  known 
in  the  Middle  Ages  no  one  would  question.  It 
was  treated  in  a  literary  way  by  an  Anglo- 
Saxon  poet,  who  was  acquainted  with  the 
scriptural  narrative,  and  in  a  popular  way  by 
poets  who  had  no  direct  acquaintance  with 
the  original. f  The  source  of  the  story  in  the 
ballad  must  in  any  case  be  a  tradition  many 

*  Det  philologisk-historiske  Samfunds  Mindeskrift  i  Arr 
ledning  af  dets  femogtyveaarige  Virksomhed,  1854-79,  Bi¬ 
drag  til  den  nordiske  Balladedigtnings  Historie,  p.  75  ff. 

t  Bugge  cites  the  Old  German  Judith,  Mullcnhoff  u. 
Scherer,  Denkmaler,  2d  ed.,  No  37,  p.  105,  to  show  how  the 
Bible  story  became  modified  under  a  popular  treatment. 

1  Holefern  might  doubtless  pass  into  Halewyn,  but  there 
is  not  the  slightest  need  of  Holefern  to  account  for  Halewyn. 
Halewyn,  besides  being  a  well-known  local  and  family  ap¬ 
pellation,  is  found  in  two  other  Dutch  ballads,  one  of  which 


times  removed  from  the  biblical  story  ;  that 
much  should  be  changed,  much  dropped,  and 
much  added  is  only  what  would  be  expected. 

Beginning  the  comparison  with  ‘Judith’ 
with  this  caution,  it  is  first  submitted  that 
Holofernes  can  be  recognized  in  most  of  the 
Scandinavian  and  German  names  of  the 
knight.  The  v  of  the  proposed  base-form  is 
preserved  in  Ulver,  Halewyn,  and  probably  in 
the  English  Elf-knight.  It  is  easy  to  explain 
a  v’s  passing  over  to  g,  as  in  Ulinger,  Adelger, 
and  especially  under  the  influence  of  the  very 
common  names  in  -ger.  Again,  v  might  easily 
become  b,  as  in  Olbert,  or  m,  as  in  Hollemen, 
Olmor ;  and  the  initial  R  of  Rulleman,  Ro- 
mor,  etc.,  may  have  been  carried  over  from  a 
prefixed  Herr.J 

The  original  name  of  the  heroine  has  been 
lost,  and  yet  it  is  to  be  noticed  that  Gert  01- 
bert’s  mother,  in  German  A,  is  called  Fru 
Jutte. 

The  heroine  in  this  same  ballad  is  named 
Helena  (Linnich  in  F)  ;  in  others  (German 
C,  D,  E),  Odilia.  These  are  names  of  saints, 
and  this  circumstance  may  tend  to  show  that 
the  woman  in  the  ballad  was  originally  con¬ 
ceived  of  as  rather  a  saint  than  a  secular  char¬ 
acter,  though  in  the  course  of  time  the  story 
has  so  changed  that  the  devout  widow  who 
sought  out  her  country’s  enemy  in  his  own 
camp  has  been  transformed  into  a  young  maid 
who  is  enticed  from  home  by  a  treacherous 
suitor. 

It  is  an  original  trait  in  the  ballad  that  the 
murderer,  as  is  expressly  said  in  many  copies, 
is  from  a  foreign  land.  According  to  an  Eng¬ 
lish  version  (E),  he  comes  from  the  north,  as 
Holofernes  does,  “  venit  Assur  ex  montibus 
ab  aquilone  ”  (Jud.  xvi,  5). 

The  germ  of  this  outlandish  knight’s  blood- 

(Lootens  and  Feys,  p.  66,  No  38  ;  Hoffmann,  p.  46,  No  11) 
has  no  kind  of  connection  with  the  present,  and  is  no  more 
likely  to  have  derived  the  name  from  this  than  this  from 
that.  It  shall  not  be  denied  that  Adelger,  Hilsinger,  Rulle- 
mann,  Reimvord  might  have  sprung  from  or  have  been  sug¬ 
gested  by  Holofern,  under  the  influence  of  familiar  termina¬ 
tions,  but  it  may  be  remarked  that  Hildebrand,  Ravengaard, 
Yaldemar,  Rosmer,  if  they  had  occurred  in  any  version, 
would  have  occasioned  no  greater  difficulty. 


52 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


thirstiness  is  found  in  the  truculent  part  that 
Holofernes  plays  in  the  Bible,  his  threats  and 
devastations.  That  the  false  suitor  appears 
without  companions  is  in  keeping  with  the 
ballad  style  of  representation ;  yet  we  might 
find  suggestions  of  the  Assyrian’s  army  in  the 
swains,  the  brothers,  the  stable-boy,  whom  the 
maid  falls  in  with  on  her  way  home. 

The  splendid  promises  made  in  many  of  the 
ballads  might  have  been  developed  from  the 
passage  where  Holofernes,  whose  bed  is  de¬ 
scribed  as  wrought  with  purple,  gold,  and 
precious  stones,  says  to  Judith,  Thou  shalt  be 
great  in  the  house  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  and 
thy  name  shall  be  named  in  all  the  earth  (xi, 
21). 

In  many  forms  of  the  ballad,  especially  the 
Dutch  and  the  German,  the  maid  adorns  her¬ 
self  splendidly,  as  Judith  does  :  she  even  wears 
some  sort  of  crown  in  Dutch  A  16,  German 
D  8,  as  Judith  does  in  x,  3,  xvi,  10  (mit- 
ram). 

In  the  English  D,  E,  F,  the  oldest  Danish, 
A,  and  the  Polish  versions,  the  maid,  like 
Judith,  leaves  her  home  in  the  night. 

The  Piedmontese  cast6,  Italian  E  1  [there 
is  a  castle  in  nearly  all  the  Italian  ballads,  and 
also  in  Dutch  B],  may  remind  us  of  Holo- 
fernes’  castra. 

The  knight’s  carrying  off  the  maid,  lifting 
her  on  to  his  horse  in  many  copies,  may  well 
come  from  a  misunderstanding  of  elevaverunt 
in  Judith  x,  20 :  Et  cum  in  faciem  ejus  inten- 
disset,  adoravit  eum,  prosternens  se  super  ter¬ 
rain.  Et  elevaverunt  earn  servi  Holofernis, 
jubente  domino  suo.* 

In  German  A  Gert  Olbert  and  Helena  are 
said  to  ride  three  days  and  nights,  and  in 
Danish  D  the  ride  is  for  three  days  ;  and  we 
may  remember  that  Judith  killed  Holofernes 
the  fourth  day  after  her  arrival  in  his  camp. 

The  place  in  which  the  pair  alight  is,  ac¬ 
cording  to  German  G  20,  a  deep  dale,  and 
this  agrees  with  the  site  of  Holofernes’  camp 
in  the  valley  of  Bethulia.  There  is  a  spring  or 
stream  in  many  of  the  ballads,  and  also  a 

*  The  Old  German  poem  makes  Holofernes  kindle  with 
desire  for  Judith  the  moment  he  sees  her,  and  he  bids  his 
men  bring  her  to  his  tent.  They  lift  her  up  and  bring  her  in. 


spring  in  the  camp,  in  which  Judith  bathes 
(xii,  7). 

Most  forms  of  the  ballad  make  the  knight, 
after  the  halt,  inform  the  maid  that  she  is  to 
die,  as  many  maids  have  before  her  in  the 
same  place  ;  e.  g.,  German  G  7  : 

‘  Der  Ulinger  hat  eylif  Jungfrawen  gehangen, 

Die  zwolfft  hat  er  gefangen.’  f 

This  corresponds  with  the  passage  in  Judith’s 
song  (xvi,  6),  Dixit  se  .  .  .  infantes  meos 
dare  in  preedam  etvirgenes  incaptiv- 
i  t  a  t  e  m  :  but  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that 
the  ballad  follows  some  version  of  the  Bible 
words  that  varied  much  from  the  original. 

The  incident  of  the  maid’s  lousing  and  tous- 
ing  her  betrayer’s  hair,  while  he  lies  with  his 
head  in  her  lap,  may  have  come  from  Judith 
seizing  Holofernes  by  the  hair  before  she  kills 
him,  but  the  story  of  Samson  and  Delilah  may 
have  had  influence  here. 

According  to  many  German  versions,  the 
murderer  grants  the  maid  three  cries  before 
she  dies.  She  invokes  Jesus,  Mary,  and  her 
brother.  Or  she  utters  three  sighs,  the  first  to 
God  the  Father,  the  second  to  Jesus,  the  third 
to  her  brother.  These  cries- or  sighs  seem  to 
take  the  place  of  Judith’s  prayer,  Confirma 
me,  Domine  Deus  Israel  (xiii,  7),  and  it  may 
also  be  well  to  remember  that  Holofernes 
granted  Judith,  on  her  request,  permission  to 
go  out  in  the  night  to  pray. 

The  Dutch,  Low-German,  Scandinavian,  and 
other  versions  agree  in  making  the  woman  kill 
the  knight  with  his  own  sword,  as  in  Judith. 
The  Dutch  and  Low-German  [also  Danish  F, 
Swedish  A]  have  preserved  an  original  trait 
in  making  the  maid  hew  off  the  murderer’s 
head.  English  and  French  versions  dispose  of 
the  knight  differently :  the  maid  pushes  him 
into  sea  or  river.  Perhaps,  in  some  older 
form  of  the  story,  after  the  head  was  cut  off, 
the  trunk  was  pushed  into  the  water:  cf.  Ju¬ 
dith  xiii,  10:  Abscidit  caput  ejus  et  .  .  .  evol- 
vit  corpus  ejus  truncum.  The  words  appre- 
hendit  comam  capitis  ejus  (xiii,  9)  have  their 

t  It  should  be  observed  that  these  words  are  from  the 
dove’s  warning. 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


53 


parallel  in  Dutch  A,  33 :  “  Zy  nam  bet  hoofd 
al  by  bet  liaer.”  The  Dutch  ballad  makes  the 
maid  carry  the  head  with  her. 

“  Singing  and  ringing  ”  she  rode  through 
the  wood :  Judith  sings  a  song  of  praise  to  the 
Lord  after  her  return  home. 

In  English  C-F,  May  Colven  comes  home 
before  dawn,  as  Judith  does.  The  Dutch  A 
says,  When  to  her  father’s  gate  she  came,  she 
blew  the  horn  like  a  man.  Compare  Judith 
xiii,  13  :  Et  dixit  Judith  a  longe  custodibus 
murorum,  Aperite  portas ! 

The  Dutch  text  goes  on  to  say  that  when 
the  father  heard  the  horn  he  was  delighted  at 
his  daughter’s  return  :  and  Judith  v,  14,  Et 
factum  est,  cum  audissent  viri  vocern  ejus,  vo- 
caverunt  presbyteros  civitatis. 

The  conclusion  of  Dutch  A  is  that  there  was 
a  banquet  held,  and  the  head  was  set  on  the 
table.  So  Judith  causes  Holofernes’  head  to 
be  hung  up  on  the  city  wall,  and  after  the 
enemy  have  been  driven  off,  the  Jews  hold  a 
feast. 

The  Icelandic  version,  though  elsewhere 
much  mutilated,  has  a  concluding  stanza  which 
certainly  belongs  to  the  ballad  : 

Asa  went  into  a  holy  cell, 

Never  did  she  harm  to  man. 

This  agrees  with  the  view  taken  of  the  hero¬ 
ine  of  the  ballad  as  a  saint,  and  with  the  Bible 
account  that  Judith  lived  a  chaste  widow 
after  her  husband’s  demise. 

Danish  D  is  unique  in  one  point.  The  rob¬ 
ber  has  shown  the  maid  a  little  knoll,  in  which 
the  “  much  gold  ”  of  the  women  he  has  mur¬ 
dered  lies.  When  she  has  killed  him,  the 
maid  says,  “  I  shall  have  the  much  gold,”  and 
takes  as  much  as  she  can  carry  off.  Compare 
with  this  Holofernes  putting  Judith  into  his 
treasury  (xii,  1),*  her  carrying  off  the  cono- 
poeum  (xiii,  10),  and  her  receiving  from  the 
people  all  Holofernes’  gold,  silver,  clothes, 
jewels,  and  furniture,  as  her  share  of  the  plun¬ 
der  of  the  Assyrian  camp  (xv,  14).  It  is, 

*  Simply  because  he  had  no  other  apartment  at  his  dis¬ 
position.  Shall  we  add,  the  Polish  mother  putting  her 


perhaps,  a  perversion  of  this  circumstance  that 
the  robber  in  German  G,  H,  is  refused  per¬ 
mission  to  keep  his  costly  clothes. 

English  D  seems  also  to  have  preserved  a 
portion  of  the  primitive  story,  when  it  makes 
the  maid  tell  her  parents  in  the  morning  all 
that  has  happened,  whereupon  they  go  with 
her  to  the  sea-shore  to  find  the  robber’s  body. 
The  foundation  for  this  is  surely  the  Bible 
account  that  Judith  makes  known  her  act  to 
the  elders  of  the  city,  and  that  the  Jews  go 
out  in  the  morning  and  fall  on  the  enemy’s 
camp,  in  which  Holofernes’  body  is  lying.  In 
Swedish  C  the  robber’s  sisters  mourn  over  his 
body,  and  in  Judith  xiv,  18  the  Assyrians 
break  out  into  loud  cries  when  they  learn  of 
Holofernes’  death. 

In  all  this  it  is  simply  contended  that  the 
story  of  Judith  is  the  remote  source  of  the 
ballad,  and  it  is  conceded  that  many  of  the 
correspondences  which  have  been  cited  may 
be  accidental.  Neither  the  Latin  text  of  Ju¬ 
dith  nor  any  other  written  treatment  of  the 
story  of  Judith  is  supposed  to  have  been 
known  to  the  author  of  the  ballad.  The 
knowledge  of  its  biblical  origin  being  lost,  the 
story  would  develop  itself  in  its  own  way,  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  fashion  of  oral  tradition.  And 
so  the  pious  widow  into  whose  hands  God  gave 
over  his  enemies  is  converted  into  a  fair  maid 
who  is  enticed  by  a  false  knight  into  a  wood, 
and  who  kills  him  in  defence  of  her  own  life. 

A  similar  transformation  can  be  shown  else¬ 
where  in  popular  poetry.  The  little  Katie  of 
certain  northern  ballads  (see  Grundtvig,  No 
101)  is  a  maid  among  other  maids  who  pre¬ 
fers  death  to  dishonor ;  but  was  originally 
Saint  Catherine,  daughter  of  the  king  of 
Egypt,  who  suffered  martyrdom  for  the  faith 
under  the  Emperor  Maxentius.  All  the  ver¬ 
sions  of  the  Halewyn  ballad  which  we  possess, 
even  the  purest,  may  be  far  removed  from 
the  primitive,  both  as  to  story  and  as  to  met¬ 
rical  form.  New  features  would  be  taken  up, 
and  old  ones  would  disappear.  One  copy  has 

daughter  into  the  “new  room,”  in  which  she  kept  her  valu¬ 
ables  ? 


54 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


preserved  genuine  particulars,  which  another 
has  lost,  but  Dutch  tradition  has  kept  the 
capital  features  best  of  all.* 

Professor  Bugge’s  argument  has  been  given 
with  an  approach  to  fulness  out  of  a  desire 
to  do  entire  justice  to  the  distinguished  au¬ 
thor’s  case,  though  most  of  the  correspondences 
adduced  by  him  fail  to  produce  any  effect  upon 
my  mind. 

The  case  is  materially  strengthened  by  the 
Dutch  text  C  (‘  Roland  ’),  which  was  not  ac¬ 
cessible  at  the  time  Bugge’s  paper  was  writ¬ 
ten.  The  name  Roland  is  not  so  close  to  Hol- 
ofern  as  Halewyn,  but  is  still  within  the  range 
of  conceivable  metamorphosis.  The  points  of 
coincidence  between  Dutch  C  and  the  story  of 
Judith  are  these :  The  woman,  first  making  an 
elaborate  toilet, f  goes  out  to  seek  the  man, 
who  is  spoken  of  as  surrounded  with  soldiers  ; 
she  is  challenged  on  the  way ;  finds  Roland 
lying  on  his  bed,  which  he  proposes  she  shall 
share  (or  lose  her  life)  ;  $  she  cuts  off  his  head, 
which,  after  her  return  home,  she  exposes  from 
her  window.§ 

If  this  was  the  original  form  of  the  Dutch 
ballad,  and  the  Dutch  ballad  is  the  source  from 
which  all  the  •  other  ballads  have  come,  by 
processes  of  dropping,  taking  up,  and  trans¬ 
forming,  then  we  may  feel  compelled  to  admit 
that  this  ballad  might  be  a  wild  shoot  from 
the  story  of  Judith.  Any  one  who  bears  in 
mind  the  strange  changes  which  stories  un¬ 
dergo  will  hesitate  to  pronounce  this  impossi- 

*  Bugge  holds  that  the  ballad  was  derived  by  the  Scandi¬ 
navians  from  the  Germans,  more  precisely  by  the  Danes 
from  a  Low  German  form.  This,  he  says,  would  follow  from 
what  he  has  maintained  above,  and  he  finds  support  for  his 
view  in  many  particular  traits  of  Norse  copies.  Thus,  one  of 
the  Norwegian  names  for  the  murderer  is  Alemarken.  The 
first  three  syllables  are  very  near  to  the  Danish  Oldemor ; 
but  -ken  seems  to  be  the  German  diminutive  suffix,  and  can 
only  be  explained  by  the  ballad  having  come  from  Germany. 

t  This  toilet  derives  importance  solely  from  the  agreement 
with  Judith  x,  3  :  for  the  rest  it  is  entirely  in  the  ballad 
style.  Compare  the  toilets  in  ‘  Hafsfrun/  Afzelius,  No  92, 
in,  148,  Arwidsson,  No  150,  ii,320,  Wigstrom,  Folkdiktning, 
No  2,  p.  11,  Landstad,  No  55,  p.  494:  ‘  Guldsmedens  Bat¬ 
ter/  Grundtvig,  No.  245,  iv,  481  ff,  Wigstrom,  ib.,  No  18,  p. 
37,  Landstad,  No  43,  p.  437  :  Torkilds  Riim,  Lyngbye,  Faer- 
0iske  Qvseder,  534,  535,  Afzelius,  in,  202  :  ‘  Stolts  Karin/ 
Arwidsson,  No  63,  i,  388  :  ‘  Liti  Iverstis  hevn/  Landstad,  No 
67,  p.  559  =  ‘  Lord  Thomas  and  Fair  Annet  ’ :  in  many  of 
which  there  is  a  gold  crown.  There  is  a  man’s  toilet  in 
Grundtvig,  No  207,  iv,  201. 


ble.  What  poor  Ophelia  says  of  us  human 
creatures  is  even  truer  of  ballads:  “We  know 
what  we  are,  but  know  not  what  we  may 
be.” 

But  when  we  consider  how  much  would  have 
to  be  dropped,  how  much  to  be  taken  up,  and 
how  much  to  be  transformed,  before  the  He¬ 
brew  “  gest  ”  could  be  converted  into  the 
European  ballad,  we  naturally  look  for  a  less 
difficult  hypothesis.  It  is  a  supposition  at¬ 
tended  with  less  difficulty  that  an  indepen¬ 
dent  European  tradition  existed  of  a  half¬ 
human,  half-demonic  being,  who  possessed  an 
irresistible  power  of  decoying  away  young 
maids,  and  was  wont  to  kill  them  after  he  got 
them  into  his  hands,  but  who  at  last  found 
one  who  was  more  than  his  match,  and  lost 
his  own  life  through  her  craft  and  courage. 
A  modification  of  this  story  is  afforded  by  the 
large  class  of  Bluebeard  tales.  The  Quin- 
talin  story  seems  to  be  another  variety,  with 
a  substitution  of  lust  for  bloodthirst.  The 
Dutch  ballad  may  have  been  affected  by  some 
lost  ballad  of  Holofern,  and  may  have  taken 
up  some  of  its  features,  at  least  that  of  carry¬ 
ing  home  Halewyn’s  [Roland’s]  head,  which 
is  found  in  no  other  version.  || 

A  a  is  translated  by  Grundtvig  in  Engelske 
og  skotske  Folkeviser,  No  37,  p.  230  :  B  b  in 
the  same,  No  36,  p.  227:  C  a,  b,  D  a,  b, 
blended,  No  35,  p.  221.  A,  by  Rosa  Warrens, 
Scliottische  V.  L.  der  Yorzeit,  No  1,  p.  1  : 
Gerhard,  p.  15.  C  b,  by  Rosa  Warrens,  No 

|  Bugge  would  naturally  have  seen  the  Assyrian  scouts 
that  Judith  falls  in  with  (x,  11)  in  Roland’s  father,  mother, 
and  brother,  all  of  whom  hail  the  maid  as  she  is  making 
for  Roland’s  quarters  (C  30-38) ;  still  more  “Holofernes  ja- 
cebat  in  lecto”  (xiii,  4),  in  “  Roland  die  op  zijn  bedde  lag,” 
C  39. 

§  Judith  xiv,  1:  “  Suspendite  caput  hoc  super  muros 
nostros.”  The  cutting  off  and  bringing  home  of  the  head,  as 
need  hardly  be  said,  is  not  of  itself  remarkable,  being  found 
everywhere  from  David  to  Beowulf,  and  from  Beowulf  to 
‘  Sir  Andrew  Barton.’ 

||  Dutch  B,  which,  as  before  said,  has  been  completely  re¬ 
written,  makes  the  comparison  with  Holofernes  : 

34  ‘  Ik  heb  van't  leven  hem  beroofd, 
in  mynen  schoot  heb  ik  zyn  hoofd, 
hy  is  als  Holofernes  gelooft.’ 

37  Zy  reed  dan  voort  als  Judith  wys, 
zoo  regt  nae  haer  vaders  paleis, 
daer  zy  wierd  ingehaeld  met  eer  en  prys. 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT  55 

34,  p.  148 :  Wolf,  Halle  der  Volker,  I,  38,  ham,  p.  244,  by  Knortz,  Lied.  u.  Rom.  Alt- 
Hausschatz,  225.  C,  D,  etc.,  as  in  Ailing-  Englands,  No  4,  p.  14. 


A 

a.  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  i,  22.  b. 
Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  563. 

1  Fair  lady  Isabel  sits  in  her  bower  sewing, 

Aye  as  the  gowans  grow  gay 
There  she  heard  an  elf-knight  blawing  his  horn. 
The  first  morning  in  May 

2  ‘  If  I  had  yon  horn  that  I  hear  blawing, 

And  yon  elf-knight  to  sleep  in  my  bosom.’ 

3  This  maiden  had  scarcely  these  words  spoken, 
Till  in  at  her  window  the  elf-knight  has  luppen. 

4  ‘  It ’s  a  very  strange  matter,  fair  maiden,’  said 

he, 

‘  I  camia  blaw  my  horn  but  ye  call  on  me. 

5  ‘  But  will  ye  go  to  yon  greenwood  side  ? 

If  ye  canna  gang,  I  will  cause  you  to  ride.’ 

6  He  leapt  on  a  horse,  and  she  on  another, 

And  they  rode  on  to  the  greenwood  together. 


B 

a.  Buchan's  MSS,  II,  fol.  80.  b.  Buchan’s  Ballads  of 
the  North  of  Scotland,  n,  201.  c.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  561. 
d.  Harris  MS.,  No  19. 

1  There  came  a  bird  out  o  a  bush, 

On  water  for  to  dine, 

An  sighing  sair,  says  the  king’s  daughter, 

‘  O  wae ’s  this  heart  o  mine  !  ’ 

2  He ’s  taen  a  harp  into  his  hand, 

He ’s  harped  them  all  asleep, 

Except  it  was  the  king’s  daughter, 

Who  one  wink  couldna  get. 

3  He ’s  luppen  on  his  berry-brown  steed, 

Taen  ’er  on  behind  himsell, 

Then  baitli  rede  down  to  that  Avater 
That  they  ca  Wearie’s  Well. 


7  ‘  Light  down,  light  down,  lady  Isabel,’  said  he, 
‘We  are  come  to  the  place  where  ye  are  to 

die.’ 

8  ‘  Hae  mercy,  hae  mercy,  kind  sir,  on  me, 

Till  ance  my  dear  father  and  mother  I  see.’ 

9  ‘  Seven  king’s-daughters  here  hae  I  slain, 

And  ye  shall  be  the  eight  o  them.’ 

10  ‘  O  sit  down  a  while,  lay  your  head  on  my 

knee, 

That  we  may  hae  some  rest  before  that  I  die.’ 

11  She  stroakd  him  sae  fast,  the  nearer  he  did 

creep, 

Wi  a  sma  charm  she  lulld  him  fast  asleep. 

12  Wi  his  ain  sword-belt  sae  fast  as  she  ban  him, 
Wi  his  ain  dag-durk  sae  sair  as  she  dang  him. 

13  ‘  If  seven  king’s-daughters  here  ye  hae  slain, 
Lye  ye  here,  a  husband  to  them  a’.’ 


4  ‘  Wide  in,  wide  in,  my  lady  fair, 

No  harm  shall  thee  befall ; 

Oft  times  I ’ve  watered  my  steed 
Wi  the  waters  o  Wearie’s  Well.’ 

5  The  first  step  that  she  stepped  in, 

She  stepped  to  the  knee  ; 

And  sighend  says  this  lady  fair, 

‘  This  water ’s  nae  for  me.’ 

6  ‘  Wide  in,  wide  in,  my  lady  fair, 

No  harm  shall  thee  befall ; 

Oft  times  I ’ve  watered  my  steed 
Wi  the  water  o  Wearie’s  Well.’ 

7  The  next  step  that  she  stepped  in, 

She  stepped  to  the  middle  ; 

‘  0,’  sighend  says  tills  lady  fair, 

I ’ve  wat  my  gowden  girdle.’ 


56 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


8  ‘  Wide  in,  wide  in,  my  lady  fair, 

No  harm  shall  thee  befall ; 

Oft  times  have  I  watered  my  steed ' 

Wi  the  water  o  Wearie’s  Well.’ 

9  The  next  step  that  she  stepped  in, 

She  stepped  to  the  chin  ; 

‘  0/  sighend  says  this  lady  fair, 

‘  They  sud  gar  twa  loves  twin.’ 

10  ‘  Seven  king’s-daughters  I ’ve  drownd  there, 

In  the  water  o  Wearie’s  Well, 

And  I  ’ll  make  you  the  eight  o  them, 

And  ring  the  common  hell.’ 

11  {  Since  I  am  standing  here,’  she  says, 

‘  This  dowie  death  to  die, 


0 

a.  Herd’s  MSS,  i,  166.  b.  Herd’s  Ancient  and  Modern 
Scottish  Songs,  1776,  i,  93.  c.  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  p. 
67,  =b  “collated  with  a  copy  obtained  from  recitation.” 

1  False  Sir  John  a  wooing  came 

To  a  maid  of  beauty  fair  ; 

May  Colven  was  this  lady’s  name, 

Her  father’s  only  heir. 

2  He  wood  her  butt,  he  wood  her  ben, 

He  wood  her  in  the  ha, 

Until  he  got  this  lady’s  consent 
To  mount  and  ride  awa. 

3  He  went  down  to  her  father’s  bower, 

Where  all  the  steeds  did  stand, 

And  he ’s  taken  one  of  the  best  steeds 
That  was  in  her  father’s  land. 

4  He ’s  got  on  and  she ’s  got  on, 

And  fast  as  they  could  flee, 

Until  they  came  to  a  lonesome  part, 

A  rock  by  the  side  of  the  sea. 

5  ‘  Loup  off  the  steed,’  says  false  Sir  John, 

‘  Your  bridal  bed  you  see; 

For  I  have  drowned  seven  young  ladies, 

The  eight  one  you  shall  he. 

6  ‘  Cast  off,  cast  off,  my  May  Colven, 

All  and  your  silken  gown, 


One  kiss  o  your  comely  mouth 
I ’m  sure  wad  comfort  me.’ 

12  He  louted  him  oer  his  saddle  bow, 

To  kiss  her  cheek  and  chin  ; 

She ’s  taen  him  in  her  arms  twa, 

An  thrown  him  headlong  in. 

13  ‘  Since  seven  king’s  daughters  ye ’ve  drowned 

there, 

In  the  water  o  Wearie’s  Well, 

I’ll  make  you  bridegroom  to  them  a’, 

An  ring  the  hell  my  sell.’ 

14  And  aye  she  warsled,  and  aye  she  swam, 

And  she  swam  to  dry  lan  ; 

She  thanked  God  most  cheerfully 
The  dangers  she  oercame. 


For  it ’s  oer  good  and  oer  costly 
To  rot  in  the  salt  sea  foam. 

7  ‘  Cast  off,  cast  off,  my  May  Colven, 

All  and  your  embroiderd  shoen, 

F or  they  ’re  oer  good  and  oer  costly 
To  rot  in  the  salt  sea  foam.’ 

8  ‘  O  turn  you  about,  O  false  Sir  John, 

And  look  to  the  leaf  of  the  tree, 

For  it  never  became  a  gentleman 
A  naked  woman  to  See.’ 

9  He  turnd  himself  straight  round  about, 

To  look  to  the  leaf  of  the  tree ; 

So  swift  as  May  Colven  was 
To  throw  him  in  the  sea. 

10  ‘  O  help,  O  help,  my  May  Colven, 

O  help,  or  else  I  ’ll  drown  ; 

I  ’ll  take  you  home  to  your  father’s  bower, 
And  set  you  down  safe  and  sound.’ 

11  ‘No  help,  no  help,  0  false  Sir  John, 

No  help,  nor  pity  thee  ; 

Tho  seven  king’s-daughters  you  have  drownd, 
But  the  eight  shall  not  be  me.’ 

12  So  she  went  on  her  father’s  steed, 

As  swift  as  she  could  flee, 

And  she  came  home  to  her  father’s  bower 
Before  it  was  break  of  day. 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


57 


13  Up  then  and  spoke  the  pretty  parrot : 

‘  May  Colven,  where  have  you  been? 
What  has  become  of  false  Sir  John, 
That  woo’d  you  so  late  the  streen  ? 

14  ‘  He  woo’d  you  butt,  he  woo’d  you  ben, 

He  woo’d  you  in  the  ha, 

Until  he  got  your  own  consent 
For  to  mount  and  gang  awa.’ 

15  ‘0  hold  your  tongue,  my  pretty  parrot, 

Lay  not  the  blame  upon  me  ; 


Your  cup  shall  be  of  the  flowered  gold, 
Your  cage  of  the  root  of  the  tree.’ 

16  Up  then  spake  the  king  himself, 

In  the  bed-chamber  where  he  lay : 

‘  What  ails  the  pretty  parrot, 

That  prattles  so  long  or  day  ?  ’ 

17  ‘  There  came  a  cat  to  my  cage  door, 

It  almost  a  worried  me, 

And  I  was  calling  on  May  Colven 
To  take  the  cat  from  me.’ 


D 

a.  Sharpe’s  Ballad  Book  (1823),  No  17,  p.  45.  b.  Bu¬ 
chan’s  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii,45.  c.  Mother¬ 
well’s  Minstrelsy,  Appendix,  p.  21,  No.  xxiv,  one  stanza. 

1  O  heard  ye  of  a  bloody  knight, 

Lived  in  the  south  country  ? 

For  he  has  betrayed  eight  ladies  fair 
And  drowned  them  in  the  sea. 

2  Then  next  he  went  to  May  Collin, 

She  was  her  father’s  heir, 

The  greatest  beauty  in  the  land, 

I  solemnly  declare. 

3  ‘  I  am  a  knight  of  wealth  and  might, 

Of  townlands  twenty-three ; 

And  you  ’ll  be  lady  of  them  all, 

If  you  will  go  with  me.’ 

4  ‘  Excuse  me,  then,  Sir  John,’  she  says  ; 

‘  To  wed  I  am  too  young  ; 

Without  I  have  my  parents’  leave, 

With  you  I  darena  gang.’ 

5  ‘  Your  parents’  leave  you  soon  shall  have, 

In  that  they  will  agree  ; 

For  I  have  made  a  solemn  vow 
This  night  you’ll  go  with  me.’ 

6  From  below  his  arm  he  pulled  a  charm, 

And  stuck  it  in  her  sleeve, 

And  he  has  made  her  go  with  him, 

Without  her  parents’  leave. 

7  Of  gold  and  silver  she  has  got 

With  her  twelve  hundred  pound, 

8 


And  the  swiftest  steed  her  father  had 
She  has  taen  to  ride  upon. 

8  So  privily  they  went  along, 

They  made  no  stop  or  stay, 

Till  they  came  to  the  fatal  place 
That  they  call  Bunion  Bay. 

9  It  being  in  a  lonely  place, 

And  no  house  there  was  nigh, 

The  fatal  rocks  were  long  and  steep, 
And  none  could  hear  her  cry. 

10  ‘  Light  down,’  he  said,  1  fair  May  Collin, 

Light  down  and  speak  with  me, 

For  here  I ’ve  drowned  eight  ladies  fair, 
And  the  ninth  one  you  shall  be.’ 

11  ‘  Is  this  your  bowers  and  lofty  towers, 

So  beautiful  and  gay  ? 

Or  is  it  for  my  gold,’  she  said, 

‘  You  take  my  life  away  ?  ’ 

12  ‘  Strip  off,’  he  says,  1  thy  jewels  fine, 

So  costly  and  so  brave, 

For  they  are  too  costly  and  too  fine 
To  throw  in  tke  sea  wave.’ 

13  ‘  Take  all  I  have  my  life  to  save, 

0  good  Sir  John,  I  pray  ; 

Let  it  neer  be  said  you  killed  a  maid 
Upon  her  wedding  day.’ 

14  ‘  Strip  off,’  he  says,  *  thy  Holland  smock, 

That ’s  bordered  with  the  lawn, 

For  it ’s  too  costly  and  too  fine 
To  rot  in  the  sea  sand.’ 


58 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


15  ‘  0  turn  abtjut,  Sir  John,’  she  said, 

‘  Your  hack  about  to  me, 

For  it  never  was  comely  for  a  man 
A  naked  woman  to  see.’ 

16  But  as  he  turned  him  round  about, 

She  threw  him  in  the  sea, 

Saying,  ‘  Lie  you  there,  you  false  Sir  John, 
Where  you  thought  to  lay  me. 

17  1  0  lie  you  there,  you  traitor  false, 

Where  you  thought  to  lay  me, 

For  though  you  stripped  me  to  the  skin, 
Your  clothes  you  ’ve  got  with  thee.’ 

18  Her  jewels  fine  she  did  put  on, 

So  costly,  rich  and  brave, 

And  then  with  speed  she  mounts  his  steed, 
So  well  she  did  behave. 

19  That  lady  fair  being  void  of  fear, 

Her  steed  being  swift  and  free, 

And  she  has  reached  her  father’s  gate 
Before  the  clock  struck  three. 

20  Then  first  she  called  the  stable  groom, 

He  was  her  waiting  man ; 

Soon  as  he  heard  his  lady’s  voice 
He  stood  with  cap  in  hand. 

21  ‘  Where  have  you  been,  fair  May  Collin  ? 

Who  owns  this  dapple  grey  ?  ’ 

‘  It  is  a  found  one,’  she  replied, 

‘  That  I  got  on  the  way.’ 

22  Then  out  bespoke  the  wily  parrot 

Unto  fair  May  Collin  : 

‘  What  have  you  done  with  false  Sir  John, 
That  went  with  you  yestreen  ?  ’ 


23  ‘  O  hold  your  tongue,  my  pretty  parrot, 

And  talk  no  more  to  me, 

And  where  you  had  a  meal  a  day 
O  now  you  shall  have  three.’ 

24  Then  up  bespoke  her  father  dear, 

From  his  chamber  where  he  lay  : 

‘  What  aileth  thee,  my  pretty  Poll, 

That  you  chat  so  long  or  day  ?  ’ 

25  ‘  The  cat  she  came  to  my  cage-door, 

The  thief  I  could  not  see, 

And  I  called  to  fair  May  Collin, 

To  take  the  cat  from  nre.’ 

26  Then  first  she  told  her  father  dear 

The  deed  that  she  had  done, 

And  next  she  told  her  mother  dear 
Concerning  false  Sir  John. 

27  ‘  If  this  be  true,  fair  May  Collin, 

That  you  have  told  to  me, 

Before  I  either  eat  or  drink 
This  false  Sir  John  I  ’ll  see.’ 

28  Away  they  went  with  one  consent, 

At  dawning  of  the  day, 

Until  they  came  to  Carline  Sands, 

And  there  his  body  lay. 

29  His  body  tall,  by  that  great  fall, 

By  the  waves  tossed  to  and  fro, 

The  diamond  ring  that  he  had  on 
Was  broke  in  pieces  two. 

30  And  they  have  taken  up  his  corpse 

To  yonder  pleasant  green, 

And  there  they  have  buried  false  Sir  John, 
For  fear  he  should  be  seen. 


E 

J.  H.  Dixon,  Ancient  Poems,  Ballads,  and  Songs  of  the 
Peasantry  of  England,  p.  74. 

1  An  outlandish  knight  came  from  the  north 
lands, 

And  he  came  a-wooing  to  me  ; 

He  told  me  he ’d  take  me  unto  the  north  lands, 
And  there  he  would  marry  me. 


2  ‘  Come,  fetch  me  some  of  your  father’s  gold, 

And  some  of  your  mother’s  fee, 

And  two  of  the  best  nags  out  of  the  stable, 
Where  they  stand  thirty  and  three.’ 

3  She  fetched  him  some  of  her  father’s  gold, 

And  some  of  her  mother’s  fee, 

And  two  of  the  best  nags  out  of  the  stable, 
Where  they  stood  thirty  and  three. 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


59 


4  She  mounted  her  on  her  milk-white  steed, 

He  on  the  dapple  grey ; 

They  rode  till  they  came  unto  the  seaside, 
Three  hours  before  it  was  day. 

5  4  Light  off.  light  off  thy  milk-white  steed, 

And  deliver  it  unto  ine  ; 

Six  pretty  maids  have  I  drowned  here, 

And  thou  the  seventh  shalt  be. 

6  ‘  Pull  off,  pull  off  thy  silken  gown, 

And  deliver  it  unto  me  ; 

Methinks  it  looks  too  rich  and  too  gay 
To  rot  in  the  salt  sea. 

7  ‘  Pull  off,  pull  off  thy  silken  stays, 

And  deliver  them  unto  me  ; 

Methinks  they  are  too  fine  and  gay 
To  rot  in  the  salt  sea. 

8  ‘Pull  off,  pull  off  thy  Holland  smock, 

And  deliver  it  unto  me  ; 

Methinks  it  looks  too  rich  and  gay 
To  rot  in  the  salt  sea.’ 

9  ‘  If  I  must  pull  off  my  Holland  smock, 

Pray  turn  thy  back  unto  me  ; 

For  it  is  not  fitting  that  such  a  ruffian 
A  naked  woman  should  see.’ 

10  He  turned  his  back  towards  her 

And  viewed  the  leaves  so  green  ; 

She  catched  him  round  the  middle  so  small, 
And  tumbled  him  into  the  stream. 

11  He  dropped  high  and  he  dropped  low, 

Until  he  came  to  the  side  ; 

F 

Roxburghe  Ballads,  hi,  449. 

1  ‘  Go  fetch  me  some  of  your  father’s  gold, 

And  some  of  your  mother’s  fee, 

And  I  ’ll  carry  you  into  the  north  land, 

And  there  I  ’ll  marry  thee.’ 

2  She  fetchd  him  some  of  her  father’s  gold, 

And  some  of  her  mother’s  fee  ; 

She  carried  him  into  the  stable, 

Where  horses  stood  thirty  and  three. 


‘  Catch  hold  of  my  hand,  my  pretty  maiden, 
And  I  will  make  you  my  bride.’ 

12  ‘  Lie  there,  lie  there,  you  false-hearted  man, 

Lie  there  instead  of  me  ; 

Six  pretty  maids  have  you  drowned  here, 

And  the  seventh  has  drowned  thee.’ 

13  She  mounted  on  her  milk-white  steed, 

And  led  the  dapple  grey ; 

She  rode  till  she  came  to  her  own  father’s  hall, 
Three  hours  before  it  was  day. 

14  The  parrot  being  in  the  window  so  high, 

Hearing  the  lady,  did  say, 

‘  I ’m  afraid  that  some  ruffian  has  led  you 
astray, 

That  you  have  tarried  so  long  away.’ 

15  ‘  Don’t  prittle  nor  prattle,  my  pretty  parrot, 

Nor  tell  no  tales  of  me  ; 

Thy  cage  shall  be  made  of  the  glittering  gold, 
Although  it  is  made  of  a  tree.’ 

16  The  king  being  in  the  chamber  so  high, 

And  hearing  the  parrot,  did  say, 

‘  What  ails  you,  what  ails  you,  my  pretty  parrot, 
That  you  prattle  so  long  before  day  ?  ’ 

17  ‘  It ’s  no  laughing  matter,’  the  parrot  did  say, 

4  That  so  loudly  I  call  unto  thee, 

For  the  cats  have  got  into  the  window  so  high, 
And  I ’m  afraid  they  will  have  me.’ 

18  ‘  Well  turned,  well  turned,  my  pretty  parrot, 

Well  turned,  well  turned  for  me  ; 

Thy  cage  shall  be  made  of  the  glittering  gold, 
And  the  door  of  the  best  ivory.’ 


3  She  leapd  on  a  milk-white  steed, 

And  he  on  a  dapple-grey  ; 

They  rode  til  they  came  to  a  fair  river’s 
side, 

Three  hours  before  it  was  day. 

4  4  O  light,  O  light,  you  lady  gay, 

0  light  with  speed,  I  say, 

For  six  knight’s  daughters  have  I  drowned 
here, 

And  you  the  seventh  must  be.’ 


60 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


5  ‘  Go  fetch  the  sickle,  to  crop  the  nettle 

That  grows  so  near  the  brim, 

For  fear  it  should  tangle  my  golden  locks, 

Or  freckle  my  milk-white  skin.’ 

6  He  fetchd  the  sickle,  to  crop  the  nettle 

That  grows  so  near  the  brim, 

And  with  all  the  strength  that  pretty  Polly  had 
She  pushd  the  false  knight  in. 

7  ‘  Swim  on,  swim  on,  thou  false  knight, 

And  there  bewail  thy  doom, 

For  I  don’t  think  thy  cloathing  too  good 
To  lie  in  a  watry  tomb.’ 

8  She  leaped  on  her  milk-white  steed, 

She  led  the  dapple  grey  ; 

She  rid  till  she  came  to  her  father’s  house, 
Three  hours  before  it  was  day. 


9  ‘  Who  knocked  so  loudly  at  the  ring  ?  ’ 

The  parrot  he  did  say  ; 

‘  0  where  have  you  been,  my  pretty  Polly, 
All  this  long  summer’s  day  ?  ’ 

10  ‘  O  hold  your  tongue,  parrot, 

Tell  you  no  tales  of  me  ; 

Your  cage  shall  be  made  of  beaten  gold, 
Which  is  now  made  of  a  tree.’ 

11  0  then  bespoke  her  father  dear, 

As  he  on  his  bed  did  lay : 

4  O  what  is  the  matter,  my  parrot, 

That  you  speak  before  it  is  day  ?  ’ 

12  ‘  The  cat ’s  at  my  cage,  master, 

And  sorely  frighted  me, 

And  I  calld  down  my  Polly 
To  take  the  cat  away.’ 


A.  Burden.  Song  xix  of  Forbes’s  1  Cantus ,’  Aber¬ 
deen,  1682,  3d  ed.,  has,  as  pointed  out  by 
Motherwell,  Minstrelsy,  p.  lx,  nearly  the  same 
burden  :  The  gowans  are  gay,  The  first  morn¬ 
ing  of  May.  And  again,  a  song  in  the  Tea 
Table  Miscellany,  as  remarked  by  Buchan, 
There  gowans  are  gay,  The  first  morning  of 
May:  p.  404  of  the  12  th  ed.,  London,  1763. 

b.  No  doubt  furnished  to  Motherwell  by  Buchan, 
as  a  considerable  number  of  ballads  in  this 
part  of  his  MS.  seem  to  have  been. 

32.  Then  in.  81.  kind  sir,  said  she. 

102.  That  we  may  some  rest  before  I  die. 

II1.  the  near.  132.  to  them  ilk  ane. 

1  is  given  by  Motherwell,  Minstrelsy,  p.  lx, 
but  apparently  to  improve  metre  and  secure 
rhyme,  thus : 

Lady  Isabel  sits  in  her  bouir  sewing, 

She  heard  an  elf-knight  his  horn  blowing. 

B  b.  Buchan’s  printed  copy  differs  from  the  man¬ 
uscript  very  slightly,  except  in  spelling. 

43,  6s.  Aft  times  hae  I. 

53.  And  sighing  sair  says.  73,  9s.  And  sigh¬ 
ing  says. 

142.  Till  she  swam.  14s.  Then  thanked.  144. 
she ’d. 


c.  Like  A  b,  derived  by  Motherwell  from  Buchan. 

41,  61,  81.  wade  in,  wade  in. 

143.  And  thanked. 

Dixon,  Scottish  Traditional  Versions  of  An¬ 
cient  Ballads,  p.  63,  printing  B  from  the  man¬ 
uscript,  makes  one  or  two  trivial  changes. 

d  is  only  this  fragment. 

43  Mony  a  time  I  rade  wi  my  brown  foal 
The  water  o  Wearie’s  Wells. 

1  Leave  aff,  leave  aff  your  gey  mantle, 

It ’s  a’  gowd  but  the  hem  ; 

Leave  aff,  leave  [aff],  it ’s  far  owre  gude 
To  weet  i  the  saut  see  faem.’ 

5  She  wade  in,  an  he  rade  in, 

Till  it  took  her  to  the  knee ; 

Wi  sigliin  said  that  lady  gay 
‘  Sic  wadin ’s  no  for  me.’ 

*  #  #  ¥ 

9  He  rade  in,  and  she  wade  in, 

Till  it  took  her  to  the  chin  ; 

Wi  sighin  said  that  ladie  gay 
‘  I  ’ll  wade  nae  farer  in.’ 

10s  ‘  Sax  king’s  dochters  I  hae  drowned, 

An  the  seventh  you  sail  be.’ 


4.  LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 


61 


13  ‘  Lie  you  there,  you  fause  young  man, 
Where  you  thought  to  lay  me.’ 

C  b.  The  printed  copy  follows  the  manuscript  with 
only  very  trifling  variations  :  Colvin  for  Col- 
ven ;  131,  up  then  spak;  1C4,  ere  day;  172,  al¬ 
most  worried. 

c.  21,2.  he ’s  courted.  23.  Till  once  he  got. 

Between  2  and  3  is  inserted: 

She ’s  gane  to  her  father’s  coffers, 

Where  all  his  money  lay, 

And  she ’s  taken  the  red,  and  she ’s  left 
the  white, 

And  so  lightly  as  she  tripped  away. 

31  She ’s  gane  down  to  her  father’s  stable, 

8  And  she ’s  taken  the  best,  and  she ’s  left 
the  warst. 

4  He  rode  on,  and  she  rode  on, 

They  rode  a  long  summer’s  day, 

Until  they  came  to  a  broad  river, 

An  arm  of  a  lonesome  sea. 

5 3,4  ‘For  it’s  seven  king’s  daughters  I  have 
drowned  here, 

And  the  eighth  I  ’ll  out  make  with 
thee.’ 

61.2  4  Cast  off,  cast  off  your  silks  so  fine, 

And  lay  them  on  a  stone.’ 

71,2,3  4  Cast  off,  cast  off  your  holland  smock, 
And  lay  it  on  this  stone, 

For  it ’s  too  fine.’  .  . 

98'4  She ’s  twined  her  arms  about  his  waist, 
And  thrown  him  into 

101.2  ‘  O  hold  a  grip  of  me,  May  Colvin, 

For  fear  that  I  should  ’ 

8  father’s  gates  4  and  safely  I  ’ll  set  -you 
down. 

11  ‘  O  lie  you  there,  thou  false  Sir  John, 

O  lie  you  there,’  said  she, 

4  For  you  lie  not  in  a  caulder  bed 
Than  the  ane  you  intended  for  me.’ 

128.  father’s  gates.  4.  At  the  breaking  of  the 
day. 


134.  yestreen. 

Between  13  and  14  is  inserted : 

Up  then  spake  the  pretty  parrot, 

In  the  bonnie  cage  where  it  lay  : 

4  0  what  hae  ye  done  with  the  false  Sir 
John, 

That  he  behind  you  does  stay  ?  ’ 

158’4  ‘Your  cage  will  be  made  of  the  beaten 
gold, 

And  the  spakes  of  ivorie.’ 

171,2  ‘  It  was  a  cat  cam  .  .  . 

I  thought ’t  would  have  ’  .  .  . 

D  a.  21.  Colin. 

b.  Buchan's  copy  makes  many  slight  changes 
which  are  not  noticed  here. 

I2.  west  countrie. 

After  1  is  inserted  : 

All  ladies  of  a  gude  account 
As  ever  yet  were  known  ; 

This  traitor  was  a  baron  knight, 

They  calld  him  fause  Sir  John. 

After  2 : 

‘  Thou  art  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

I  say,  fair  May  Colvin, 

So  far  excells  thy  beauties  great 
That  ever  I  hae  seen.’ 

32.  Hae  towers,  towns  twenty  three. 

72.  five  hunder.  73.  The  best  an  steed. 

83.  fatal  end.  84.  Binyan’s  Bay. 

122.  rich  and  rare.  124.  sea  ware. 

After  12 : 

.  Then  aff  she ’s  taen  her  jewels  fine, 

And  thus  she  made  her  moan  : 

‘  Hae  mercy  on  a  virgin  young, 

I  pray  you,  gude  Sir  John.’ 

4  Cast  aff,  cast  aff,  fair  May  Colvin, 

Your  gown  and  petticoat, 

For  they  ’re  too  costly  and  too  fine 
To  rot  by  the  sea  rock.’ 

134.  Before  her.  144.  to  toss.  183.  her  steed. 
23s.  What  hast  thou  made  o  fause. 

288.  Charlestown  sands.  Sharpe  thinks  Car- 


62 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


line  Sands  means  Carlinseugh  Sands  on  the 
coast  of  'Forfarshire. 

After  30 : 

Ye  ladies  a’,  wherever  you  be, 

That  read  this  mournful  song, 

I  pray  you  mind  on  May  Colvin, 

And  think  on  fause  Sir  John. 

Aff  they ’ve  taen  his  jewels  fine, 

To  keep  in  memory ; 


And  sae  I  end  my  mournful  sang 
And  fatal  tragedy. 

c.  Motherwell' s  one  stanza  is  : 

O  heard  ye  eer  o  a  bloody  knight 
That  livd  in  the  west  countrie  ? 
For  he  has  stown  seven  ladies  fair, 
And  drownd  them  a’  in  the  sea. 

E.  32.  of  the.  172.  But  so. 


5 

GIL  BRENTON 


A.  a.  ‘Gil  Brenton,’  Jamieson  Brown  MS.,  fol.  34. 
b.  ‘  Chil  Brenton,’  William  Tytler  Brown  MS.,  No  3. 

B.  ‘  Cospatrick,’  Scott’s  Minstrelsy,  ii,  117  (1802). 

C.  ‘We  were  sisters,  we  were  seven,’  Cromek’s  Re¬ 
mains  of  Nithsdale  and  Galloway  Song,  p.  207. 

D.  ‘Lord  Dingwall,’  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North 
of  Scotland,  I,  204. 


E.  Elizabeth  Cochrane’s  song-book,  No  112. 

F.  a.  ‘  Lord  Brangwill,’  Motherwell’s  MSS,  p.  219. 
b.  ‘Lord  Bengwill,’  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  Ap¬ 
pendix,  p.  xvi. 

Gf.  ‘  Bothwell,’  Herd’s  Ancient  and  Modern  Scots 
Songs,  p.  244. 

H.  Kinloch  MSS,  v,  335. 


Eight  copies  of  this  ballad  are  extant,  four 
of  them  hitherto  unpublished.  A  a,  No  16  in 
the  Jamieson-Brown  MS.,  is  one  of  twenty  bal¬ 
lads  written  down  from  the  recitation  of  Mrs 
Brown  of  Falkland,  by  her  nephew,  Robert 
Scott,  in  1783,  or  shortly  before.  From  these 
twenty  thirteen  were  selected,  and,  having 
first  been  revised  by  Mrs.  Brown,  were  sent, 
with  two  others,  to  William  Tytler  in  the  year 
just  mentioned.  William  Tytler’s  MS.  has 
disappeared,  but  a  list  of  the  ballads  which  it 
contained,  with  the  first  stanza  of  each,  is  given 
by  Dr  Anderson,  in  Nichols’s  Illustrations  of 
the  Literary  History  of  the  Eighteenth  Cent¬ 
ury,  vn,  176.  B  is  the  ‘Cospatrick’  of  the 
Border  Minstrelsy,  described  by  Scott  as  taken 
down  from  the  recitation  of  a  lady  (known  to 
be  Miss  Christian  Rutherford,  his  mother’s 
sister)  “  with  some  stanzas  transferred  from 


Herd’s  copy,  and  some  readings  adopted  from 
a  copy  in  Mrs  Brown’s  manuscript  under  the 
title  of  Child  Brenton,”  that  is,  from  A  b. 
C  purports  to  be  one  of  a  considerable  num¬ 
ber  of  pieces,  “  copied  from  the  recital  of  a 
peasant-woman  of  Galloway,  upwards  of  ninety 
years  of  age.”  Though  overlaid  with  verses  of 
Cunningham’s  making  (of  which  forty  or  fifty 
may  be  excided  in  one  mass)  and  though  re¬ 
touched  almost  everywhere,  both  the  ground¬ 
work  of  the  story  and  some  genuine  lines 
remain  unimpaired.  The  omission  of  most  of 
the  passage  referred  to,  and  the  restoration  of 
the  stanza  form,  will  give  us,  perhaps,  a  tiling 
of  shreds  and  patches,  but  still  a  ballad  as 
near  to  genuine  as  some  in  Percy’s  Reliques 
or  even  Scott’s  Minstrelsy.  D  and  F  are 
(the  former  presumably,  the  second  certainly) 
from  recitation  of  the  first  quarter  of  this 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


G3 


century.  E  is  one  of  the  few  ballads  in  Eliz¬ 
abeth  Cochrane’s  song-book,  and  probably  of 
the  first  half  of  the  last  century.  G,  the  ear¬ 
liest  printed  form  of  the  ballad,  appeared  in 
Herd’s  first  collection,  in  the  year  1769.  H 
was  taken  down  from  recitation  by  the  late 
Dr  Hill  Burton  in  his  youth. 

A,  B,  and  C  agree  in  these  points :  A  bride, 
not  being  a  maid,  looks  forward  with  alarm 
to  her  wedding  night,  and  induces  her  bower- 
woman  to  take  her  place  for  the  nonce.  The 
imposture  is  detected  by  the  bridegroom, 
through  the  agency  of  magical  blankets, 
sheets,  and  pillows,  A ;  or  of  blank'ets,  bed, 
sheet,  and  sword,  B ;  or  simply  of  the  Billie 
Blin,  C.  (The  sword  is  probably  an  edi¬ 
torial  insertion ;  and  Jamieson,  Illustrations 
of  Northern  Antiquities,  p.  343,  doubts,  but 
without  sufficient  reason,  the  Billie  Blin.) 
The  bridegroom  has  recourse  to  his  mother, 
who  demands  an  explanation  of  the  bride, 
and  elicits  a  confession  that  she  had  once  upon 
a  time  encountered  a  young  man  in  a  wood, 
who  subjected  her  to  violence.  Before  they 
parted,  he  gave  her  certain  tokens,  which  he 
enjoined  her  to  be  very  careful  of,  a  lock 
of  his  hail’,  a  string  of  beads,  a  gold  ring,  and 
a  knife.  B  omits  the  knife,  and  C  the  beads. 
The  mother  goes  back  to  her  son,  and  asks 
what  he  had  done  with  the  tokens  she  had 
charged  him  never  to  part  with.  He  owns 
that  he  had  presented  them  to  a  lady,  one 
whom  he  would  now  give  all  his  possessions  to 
have  for  his  wife.  The  lady  of  the  greenwood 
is  identified  by  the  tokens. 

A,  C,  and  D  make  the  mother  set  a  golden 
chair  for  the  bride,  in  which  none  but  a  maid 
can  sit,  D  [no  leal  maid  will  sit  till  bidden, 
C].  In  D  the  chair  is  declined  ;  in  C,  taken 
without  bidding ;  in  A  the  significance  of  the 

*  In  his  note-book,  p.  117,  Motherwell  writes,  with  less  than 
his  usual  discretion  :  “  The  ballad  of  Bothwell,  Cospatric,  or 
Gil  Brenton,  appears  to  be  copied  from  an  account  of  the 
birth  of  Makbeth  given  by  W intown.”  The  substance  of 
this  account  is,  that  Macbeth’s  mother  had  a  habit  of  re¬ 
pairing  to  the  woods  for  wholesome  air,  and  that,  during  one 
of  her  rambles,  she  fell  in  with  a  fair  man,  really  the 
Devil,  who  passed  the  day  with  her,  a$id  got  ou  her  a  son. 

“  And  of  that  dede  in  taknyng 
He  gave  his  lemman  thare  a  ryng, 


chair  has  been  lost.  E,  F,  G  employ  no  kind  of 
test  of  maidenhood,  —  the  bride  frankly  avows 
that  she  is  with  child  to  another  man  ;  and  D, 
as  well  as  E,  F,  G,  omits  the  substitution  of 
the  chambermaid.  The  tokens  in  D  are  a 
chain,  a  ring,  and  three  locks  of  hair  ;  in  E, 
gloves  and  a  ring ;  in  F,  G,  green  gloves,  a 
ring,  and  three  locks  [plaits]  of  hair.  Only 
the  ring  remains  in  H. 

“  This  ballad,”  says  Motherwell  (1827),  “is 
very  popular,  and  is  known  to  reciters  under  a 
variety  of  names.  I  have  heard  it  called  Lord 
Bangwell,  Bengwill,  Dingwall,  Brengwill,  etc., 
ajid  The  Seven  Sisters,  or  the  Leaves  of  Lind.” 
He  adds :  “  There  is  an  unedited  ballad  in 
Scotland,  which  is  a  nearer  approximation  to 
the  Danish  song,  inasmuch  as  the  substitu¬ 
tion  of  the  maiden  sister  for  the  real  bride 
constitutes  a  prominent  feature  of  the  tale.”  * 
(Minstrelsy,  Introduction,  lxix 21  and  xc.) 

Scott  remarks  that  Cospatrick  f  “  was  the 
designation  of  the  Earl  of  Dunbar,  in  the 
days  of  Wallace  and  Bruce.”  Mr  Macmath 
informs  me  that  it  is  in  use  at  the  present 
day  in  the  families  of  the  Earl  of  Home  and 
of  Dunbar  of  Mochrum,  Bart,  who,  among 
others,  claim  descent  from  the  ancient  earls  of 
Dunbar  and  March.  The  story  of  the  ballad 
might,  of  course,  attach  itself  to  any  person 
prominent  in  the  region  where  the  ballad  was 
known. 

Swedish.  Three  Swedish  versions  of  this 
ballad  were  given  by  Afzelius :  A,  ‘  Riddar 
Olle’  in  50  two-line  stanzas,  n,  217;  B,  19 
two-line  stanzas,  II,  59 ;  C,  19  two-line  stan¬ 
zas,  H,  56:  No  33,  I,  175-182  of  Bergstrom’s 
edition.  Besides  these,  there  are  two  frag¬ 
ments  in  Cavallius  and  Stephens’s  unprinted 
collection :  D,  6  stanzas ;  E,  7  stanzas,  the 
latter  printed  in  Grundtvig,  V,  307.$  All 

And  bad  hyr  that  scho  suld  kepe  that  wele, 

And  hald  for  hys  luve  that  jwele.” 

CronyJcil,  Book  VI,  ch.  xviii,  57-90. 

t  Scott  says :  “  Cospatrick,  Comes  Patricius ;  ”  but  Cos- 
(Gos-)patrick  is  apparently  Servant  of  Patrick,  like  Gil-pat- 
rick  (Kil  patrick).  Mr  Macmath  suggests  to  me  that  Gil 
Brenton  may  have  originally  been  Gil-brandon,  which  seems 
very  likely.  See  Notes  and  Queries,  5th  S.,  x,  443. 

X  A  fragment  in  Rancken’s  ‘  Nagra  Prof  af  Folksang,’  p. 
14  f,  belongs  not  to  ‘Riddar  Olle,’  as  there  said,  but  to 


64 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


these  were  obtained  from  recitation  in  the 
present  century.  A  comes  nearest  to  our  A, 
B.  Like  Scottish  B,  it  seems  to  have  been 
compounded  from  several  copies.  Sir  Olof 
betrothed  Ingalilla,  and  carried  her  home  for 
the  spousal,  wearing  a  red  gold  crown  and  a 
wan  cheek.  Ingalilla  gave  birth  to  twin-boys. 
Olof  had  a  maid  who  resembled  Ingalilla  com¬ 
pletely,  and  who,  upon  Ingalilla’s  entreaty, 
consented  to  play  the  part  of  bride  on  the 
morrow.  Dressed  in  Ingalilla’s  clothes,  blue 
kirtle,  green  jacket,  etc.,  and  wearing  five 
gold  rings  and  a  gold  crown,  the  maid  rode 
to  church,  with  Ingalilla  at  her  back,  and  her 
beauty  was  admired  by  all  as  she  came  and 
went.  But  outside  of  the  church  were  a  good 
many  musicians ;  and  one  of  these  piped  out, 
“  God-a-mercy,  Ingalilla,  no  maid  art  thou !  ” 
Ingalilla  threw  into  the  piper’s  hand  some¬ 
thing  which  made  him  change  his  tune.  He 
was  an  old  drunken  fellow,  and  no  one  need 
mind  what  he  sang.  After  five  days  of  drink¬ 
ing,  they  took  the  bride  to  her  chamber,  not 
without  force.  Ingalilla  bore  the  light  before 
her,  and  helped  put  her  to  bed  ;  then  lay  down 
herself.  Olof  had  over  him  a  fur  rug,  which 
could  talk  as  well  as  he,  and  it  called  out, 

‘  Hear  me,  Sir  Olof,  hear  what  I  say  ; 

Thou  hast  taken  a  strumpet,  and  missed  a  may.’ 

And  Olof, 

4  Hear,  little  Inga,  sweetheart,’  he  said ; 

‘  What  didst  thou  get  for  thy  maidenhead  ?  ’  * 

Inga  explained.  Her  father  was  a  strange 
sort  of  man,  and  built  her  bower  by  the  sea- 
strand,  where  all  the  king’s  courtiers  took 
ship.  Nine  had  broken  in,  and  one  had  robbed 
her  of  her  honor.  He  had  given  her  an  em¬ 
broidered  sark,  a  blue  kirtle,  green  jacket, 
black  mantle,  gloves,  five  gold  rings,  a  red  gold 
crown,  a  golden  harp,  and  a  silver-mounted 
knife,  which  she  now  wishes  in  the  youngster’s 

‘  Herr  Aster  och  Froken  Sissa/  though  the  burden  is'Rid- 
dar  Olof/  Other  verses,  at  p.  16,  might  belong  to  either. 

‘  Riddar  Ola,’  E.  Wigstrom’s  Folkdiktning,  p.  37,  No  18, 
belongs  with  the  Danish  ‘  Guldsmedens  Datter/  Grundtvig, 
No  245. 

*  The  inquiry  seems  to  refer  to  the  morning  gift.  “  Die 


body.  The  conclusion  is  abruptly  told  in  two 
stanzas.  Olof  bids  Inga  not  to  talk  so,  for  he 
is  father  of  her  children.  He  embraces  her 
and  gives  her  a  queen’s  crown  and  name.  B 
has  the  same  story,  omitting  the  incident  of 
the  musician.  C  has  preserved  this  circum¬ 
stance,  but  has  lost  both  the  substitution  of 
the  waiting-woman  for  the  bride  and  the  mag¬ 
ical  coverlet.  D  has  also  lost  these  important 
features  of  the  original  story  ;  E  has  retained 
them. 

Danish.  4  Brud  ikke  Mo,’  Grundtvig,  No 
274,  v,  304.  There  are  two  old  versions 
(more  properly  only  one,  so  close  is  the  agree¬ 
ment),  and  a  third  from  recent  tradition.  This 
last,  Grundtvig’s  C,  from  Jutland,  1856,  seems 
to  be  of  Swedish  origin,  and,  like  Swedish  C, 
D,  wants  the  talking  coverlet,  though  it  has 
kept  the  other  material  feature,  that  of  the 
substitution.  A  is  found  in  two  manuscripts, 
one  of  the  sixteenth  and  the  other  of  the  sev¬ 
enteenth  century.  B  is  the  well-known  4  In- 
gefred  og  Gudrune,’  or  ‘Herr  Samsings  Nat- 
tergale,’  Syv,  iv,  No  62,  Danske  Viser,  No 
194,  translated  in  Jamieson’s  Illustrations,  p. 
340,  and  by  Prior,  III,  347.  A  later  form  of 
B,  from  recent  recitation,  1868,  is  given  in 
Kristensen’s  Jydske  Folkeviser,  i,  No  53. 

The  story  in  A  runs  thus  :  Solverlad  and 
Vendelrod  [Ingefred  and  Gudrune]  were  sit¬ 
ting  together,  and  Vendelrod  wept  sorely.  Sol- 
verlad  asked  her  sister  the  reason,  and  was 
told  there  was  cause.  W ould  she  be  bride  one 
night?  Vendelrod  would  give  her  wedding 
clothes  and  all  her  outfit.  But  Solverlad 
asked  for  bridegroom  too,  and  Vendelrod  would 
not  give  up  her  bridegroom,  happen  what 
might.  She  went  to  church  and  was  married 
to  Samsing.  On  the  way  from  church  they 
met  a  spaeman  [B,  shepherd],  who  warned 
Vendelrod  that  Samsing  had  some  nightin¬ 
gales  that  could  tell  him  whether  he  had  mar¬ 
ried  a  maid  or  no.  The  sisters  turned  aside 

Morgengabe  ist  eiu  Gescbenk  dcs  Marines  als  Zeichen  der 
Liebe  (in  signum  amoris),  fiir  die  Uebergabe  der  vollen 
Sekbnheit  (in  honore  pulchritudinis)  und  der  Jungfraulich- 
keit  (prefcium  virginit^tis).”  Weinhold,  Die  deutschen  Frauen 
in  dem  Mittelalter,  S.  270. 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


65 


and  changed  clothes,  but  could  not  change 
cheeks !  Solverlad  was  conducted  to  Sam- 
sing’s  house  and  placed  on  the  bride  bench. 
An  unlucky  jester  called  out,  “  Methinks  this 
is  not  Vendelrod!”  but  a  gold  ring  adroitly 
thrown  into  his  bosom  opened  his  eyes  still 
wider,  and  made  him  pretend  he  had  meant 
nothing.  The  supposed  bride  is  put  to  bed. 
Samsing  invokes  his  nightingales  :  “  Have  I 
a  maid  or  no  ?  ”  They  reply,  it  is  a  maid 
that  lies  in  the  bed,  but  Vendelrod  stands 
on  the  floor.  Samsing  asks  Vendelrod  why 
she  avoided  her  bed,  and  she  answers :  her 
father  lived  on  the  strand ;  her  bower  was 
broken  into  by  a  large  company  of  men,  and 
one  of  them  robbed  her  of  her  honor.  In  this 
case  there  are  no  tokens  for  evidence.  Sam¬ 
sing  owns  immediately  that  he  and  his  men 
had  broken  into  the  bower,  and  Vendelrod’s 
agony  is  over. 

Some  of  the  usual  tokens,  gold  harp,  sark, 
shoes,  and  silver-mounted  knife,  are  found  in 
the  later  C.  Danish  D  is  but  a  single  initial 
stanza. 

Besides  Solverlad  and  Vendelrod,  there  is 
a  considerable  number  of  Danish  ballads  char¬ 
acterized  by  the  feature  that  a  bride  is  not  a 
maid,  and  most  or  all  of  these  have  similari¬ 
ties  to  4  Gil  Brenton.’  ‘  Hr.  Find  og  Vendel¬ 
rod, ’  Grundtvig,  No  275,  has  even  the  talking 
blanket  (sometimes  misunderstood  to  be  a 
bed-6oar(2).  In  this  piece  there  is  no  substi¬ 
tution.  Vendelrod  gives  birth  to  children, 
and  the  news  makes  Find  jump  over  the  table. 
Still  he  puts  the  question  mildly,  who  is  the 
father,  and  recognizes  that  he  is  the  man,  upon 
hearing  the  story  of  the  bower  on  the  strand, 
and  seeing  half  a  gold  ring  which  Vendelrod 
had  received  “  for  her  honor.” 

In  ‘  Ingelilles  Bryllup,’  Grundtvig,  No  276, 
Blidelild  is  induced  to  take  Ingelild’s  place  by 
the  promise  that  she  shall  many  Ingelild’s 
brother.  Hr.  Magnus  asks  her  why  she  is  so 
sad,  and  says  he  knows  she  is  not  a  maid. 
Blidelild  says,  “  Since  you  know  so  much,  I 
will  tell  you  more,”  and  relates  Ingelild’s  ad¬ 
venture, —  how  she  had  gone  out  to  the  river, 
and  nine  knights  came  riding  by,  etc.  [so  A  ; 
in  B  and  C  we  have  the  bower  on  the  strand, 


as  before].  Hr.  Magnus  avows  that  he  was 
the  ninth,  who  stayed  when  eight  rode  away. 
Blidelild  begs  that  he  will  allow  her  to  go 
and  look  for  some  lost  rings,  and  uses  the 
opportunity  to  send  back  Ingelild  in  her 
stead. 

Various  other  Scandinavian  ballads  have 
more  or  less  of  the  story  of  those  which  have 
been  mentioned.  In  the  Danish  4  Brud  i 
Vaande,’  Grundtvig,  No  277,  a  bride  is  taken 
with  untimely  pains  while  being  “  brought 
home.”  The  question  asked  in  several  of  the 
Scottish  ballads,  whether  the  saddle  is  uncom¬ 
fortable,  occurs  in  A,  B  ;  the  bower  that  was 
forced  by  eight  swains  and  a  knight  in  A,  C, 
D,  F  ;  the  gifts  in  A,  B,  F ;  and  an  express 
acknowledgment  of  the  act  of  violence  by  the 
bridegroom  in  A,  B,  D.  We  find  all  of  these 
traits  except  the  first  in  the  corresponding 
Swedish  ballad  4  Herr  Aster  och  Froken  Sissa,’ 
Afzelius,  No  38,  new  ed.,  No  32, 1 ;  the  saddle 
and  broken  bower  in  Swedish  D,  Grundtvig, 
No  277,  Bilag  1 ;  only  the  saddle  in  Swedish 
F,  Grundtvig,  No.  277,  Bilag  3,  and  C,  Ar- 
widsson,  No  132  ;  the  saddle  and  gifts  in  Ice¬ 
landic  A,  B,  C,  D,  E,  Grundtvig,  No  277,  Bilag 
5,  6,  7,  8. 

4  Peder  og  Malfred,’  Grundtvig,  No  278,  in 
four  versions,  the  oldest  from  a  manuscript  of 
1630,  represents  Sir  Peter  as  riding  away  from 
home  about  a  month  after  his  marriage,  and 
meeting  a  woman  who  informs  him  that  there 
is  a  birth  in  his  house.  He  returns,  and  asks 
who  is  the  father.  Sir  Peter  satisfies  himself 
that  he  is  the  man  by  identifying  the  gifts,  in 
A,  B,  C,  D ;  and  in  A,  B  we  have  also  the 
bower  by  the  strand. 

In  4  Oluf  og  Ellinsborg,’  Grundtvig,  No 
279,  A,  B,  C,  one  of  the  queen’s  ladies  is  ha¬ 
bitually  sad,  and  is  pressed  by  her  lover  to  ac¬ 
count  for  this.  She  endeavors  to  put  him  off 
with  fictitious  reasons,  but  finally  nerves  her¬ 
self  to  tell  the  truth :  she  was  walking  by  her¬ 
self  in  her  orchard,  when  five  knights  came 
riding  by,  and  one  was  the  cause  of  her  grief. 
Oluf  owns  it  was  all  his  doing.  A  Swedish 
ballad,  remarkably  close  to  the  Danish,  from 
a  manuscript  of  the  date  1572  (the  oldest 
Danish  version  is  also  from  a  manuscript  of 


66 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


the  16th  century),  is  ‘  Riddar  Lage  och  Stolts 
Elensborg,’  Arwidsson,  No  56. 

‘  Iver  Hr.  Jonson,’  Grundtvig,  No  280,  in 
five  versions,  the  oldest  of  the  16th  century, 
exhibits  a  lady  as  fearing  the  arrival  of  her 
lover’s  ship,  and  sending  her  mother  to  meet 
him,  while  she  takes  to  her  bed.  Immediately 
upon  her  betrothed’s  entering  her  chamber, 
she  abruptly  discloses  the  cause  of  her  trou¬ 
ble.  Eight  men  had  broken  into  her  bower 
on  the  strand,  and  the  ninth  deprived  her  of 
her  honor.  Iver  Hr.  Jonson,  with  as  little 
delay,  confesses  that  be  was  the  culprit,  and 
makes  prompt  arrangements  for  the  wedding. 

There  is  another  series  of  ballads,  repre¬ 
sented  by  ‘  Leesome  Brand  ’  in  English,  and 
by  ‘  Redselille  og  Medelvold  ’  in  Danish,  which 
describe  a  young  woman,  who  is  on  the  point 
of  becoming  a  mother,  as  compelled  to  go  off 
on  horseback  with  her  lover,  and  suffering 
from  the  ride.  We  find  the  question,  whether 
the  saddle  is  too  narrow  or  the  way  too  long, 
in  the  Danish  ‘  Bolde  Hr.  Nilaus’  Lon,’  Grundt¬ 
vig,  270,  ‘Redselille  og  Medelvold,’  Grundt¬ 
vig,  271  C,  D,  E,  I,  K,  L,  M,  P,  Q,  V,  Y,  and 
the  Norwegian  versions,  A,  D,  E,  F,  of  ‘  Son- 
nens  Sorg,’  Grundtvig,  272,  Bilag  1,  4,  5,  6.* 
The  gifts  also  occur  in  Grundtvig’s  271  A,  Z, 
and  Norwegian  D,  Bilag  9. 

Perhaps  no  set  of  incidents  is  repeated  so 
often  in  northern  ballads  as  the  forcing  of  the 
bower  on  the  strand,  the  giving  of  keepsakes,  * 
the  self-identification  of  the  ravisher  through 
these,  and  his  full  and  hearty  reparation.  All 
or  some  of  these  traits  are  found  in  many  bal¬ 
lads  besides  those  belonging  to  the  groups 
here  spoken  of :  as  ‘  Hildebrand  og  Hilde,’  E, 
I,  Grundtvig,  No  83,  and  Norwegian  A,  in,  857 ; 

‘  Guldsmedens  Datter,’  Grundtvig,  245,  and 
its  Swedish  counterpart  at  p.  481  of  the  pref¬ 
ace  to  the  same,  and  in  Eva  Wigstrom’s  Folk- 
diktning,  p.  37,  No  18  ;  ‘  Liden  Kirstins  Dans,’ 
Grundtvig,  263  (translated  by  Prior,  112), 
and  Norwegian  B,  C,  Bilag  2,  3 ;  ‘  Jomfruens 
Harpeslset,’  Grundtvig,  265  (translated  by 
Jamieson,  ‘  Illustrations,’  p.  382,  Prior,  123, 
Buchanan,  p.  6),  and  Swedish  D,  Bilag  2, 

*  And  again,  “  Is  it  the  saddle,  your  horse,  or  your  true- 
love?”  almost  exactly  as  in  our  B,  E,  F,  Grundtvig,  40  C, 


Swedish  A,  Afzelius,  81.  So  Landstad,  42, 
45  ;  Arwidsson,  141  ;  Grundtvig,  37  G  ;  38  A, 
D;  Ivristensen,  I,  No  95,  n,  No  28  A,  C. 

A  very  pretty  Norwegian  tale  has.  for  the 
talisman  a  stepping-stone  at  the  side  of  the 
bed  :  Asbjornsen  og  Moe,  No  29,  ‘  Vesle  Aase 
Gaasepige,’  Dasent,  2d  ed.,  p.  478.  An  Eng¬ 
lish  prince  had  pictures  taken  of  all  the  hand¬ 
somest  princesses,  to  pick  his  bride  by.  When 
the  chosen  one  arrived,  Aase  the  goose-girl 
informed  her  that  the  stone  at  the  bedside 
knew  everything  and  told  the  prince ;  so  if  she 
felt  uneasy  on  any  account,  she  must  not  step 
on  it.  The  princess  begged  Aase  to  take  her 
place  till  the  prince  was  fast  asleep,  and  then 
they  would  change.  When  Aase  came  and 
put  her  foot  on  the  stone,  the  prince  asked, 
“  Who  is  it  that  is  stepping  into  my  bed  ?  ” 
“  A  maid  clean  and  pure,”  answered  the 
stone.  By  and  by  the  princess  came  and  took 
Aase’s  place.  When  they  Were  getting  up  in 
the  morning,  the  prince  asked  again,  “  Who 
is  it  stepping  out  of  my  bed  ?  ”  “  One  that 

has  had  three  children,”  said  the  stone.  The 
prince  sent  his  first  choice  away,  and  tried  a 
second.  Aase  faithfully  warned  her,  and  she 
had  cause  for  heeding  the  advice.  When  Aase 
stepped  in,  the  stone  said  it  was  a  maid  clean 
and  pure  ;  when  the  princess  stepped  out,  the 
stone  said  it  was  one  that  had  had  six  children. 
The  prince  was  longer  in  hitting  on  a  third 
choice.  Aase  took  the  bride’s  place  once  more, 
but  this  time  the  prince  put  a  ring  on  her  fin¬ 
ger,  which  was  so  tight  that  she  could  not  get  it 
off,  for  he  saw  that  all  was  not  right.  In  the 
morning,  when  he  asked,  “  Who  is  stepping 
out  of  my  bed  ?  ”  the  stone  answered,  “  One 
that  has  had  nine  children.”  Then  the  prince 
asked  the  stone  to  clear  up  the  mystery,  and 
it  revealed  how  the  princesses  had  put  little 
Aase  in  their  place.  The  prince  went  straight 
to  Aase  to  see  if  she  had  the  ring.  She  had 
tied  a  rag  over  her  finger,  pretending  she  had 
cut  it ;  but  the  prince  soon  had  the  rag  off, 
recognized  his  ring,  and  Aase  got  the  prince, 
for  the  good  reason  that  so  it  was  to  be. 

The  artifice  of  substituting  waiting-woman 

E,  F,  Afzelius,  91,  Landstad,  45,  52.  So  the  Scottish  ballad, 
‘  The  Cruel  Brother/  B  15  f. 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


67 


for  bride  lias  been  thought  to  be  derived  from 
the  romance  of  Tristan,  in  which  Brangwain 
[Brengain,  Brangaene]  sacrifices  herself  for 
Isold  :  Scott's  ‘  Sir  Tristrem,’  ii,  54  ;  Gottfried 
v.  Strassburg,  xviii,  ed.  Bechstein.  Grundt- 
vig  truly  remarks  that  a  borrowing  by  the  ro¬ 
mance  from  the  popular  ballad  is  as  probable 
a  supposition  as  the  converse ;  and  that,  even 
should  we  grant  ttye  name  of  the  hero  of  the 
ballad  to  be  a  reminiscence  of  that  of  Isold’s 
attendant  (e.  g.  Brangwill  of  Brangwain), 
nothing  follows  as  to  the  priority  of  the  ro¬ 
mance  in  respect  to  this  passage.  A  similar 
artifice  is  employed  in  the  ballad  of  ‘  Torkild 
Trundeson,’  Danske  Viser,  200  (translated  by 
Prior,  100)  ;  Afzelius,  it,  86,  from  the  Danish  ; 
Arwidsson,  36.  The  resemblance  is  close  to 
‘  Ingelilles  Bryllup,’  C,  Grundtvig,  276.  See 
also,  further  on,  ‘  The  Twa  Knights.’ 

The  Billie  Blin  presents  himself  in  at  least 
four  Scottish  ballads  :  ‘  Gil  Brenton,’  C  ;  4  Wil¬ 
lie's  Lady ;  ’  one  version  of  ‘  Young  Beichan  ;  ’ 
two  of  ‘  The  Knight  and  Shepherd’s  Daugh¬ 
ter  ;  ’  and  also  in  the  English  ballad  of  4  King 
Arthur  and  the  King  of  Cornwall,’  here  under 
the  slightly  disfigured  name  of  Burlow  Beanie.* 
In  all  he  is  a  serviceable  household  demon ; 
of  a  decidedly  benignant  disposition  in  the 
first  four,  and,  though  a  loathly  fiend  with 
seven  heads  in  the  last,  very  obedient  and 
useful  when  once  thoroughly  subdued.  He 
is  clearly  of  the  same  nature  as  the  Dutch 
belewitte  and  German  biliviz,  characterized  by 
Grimm  as  a  friendly  domestic  genius,  penas , 
guote  holde  ;  and  the  names  are  actually  asso¬ 
ciated  in  a  passage  cited  by  Grimm  from 
Voet :  “  De  illis  quos  nostrates  appellant  beeld- 
wit  et  blinde  belien ,  a  quibus  nocturna  visa 
videri  atque  ex  iis  arcana  revelari  putant.”  f 
Though  the  etymology  of  these  words  is  not 
unencumbered  with  difficulty,  bil  seems  to 

*  The  auld  belly-blind  man  in  ‘  Earl  Richard/  443,  451, 
Kinloch’s  A.  S.  Ballads,  p.  15,  retains  the  bare  name  ;  and 
Belly  Blind,  or  Billie  Blin,  is  the  Scotch  name  for  the  game 
of  Blindman’s-butF. 

t  Gisbertus  Voetius,  De  Miraculis,  Disput.,  ii,  1018.  Cited 


point  to  a  just  and  kindly-tempered  being. 
Bilvfs,  in  the  seventh  book  of  Saxo  Grammat¬ 
icus,  is  an  aged  counsellor  whose  bent  is  to 
make  peace,  while  his  brother  Bolvfs,  a  blind 
man,  is  a  strife-breeder  and  mischief-maker.  J 
The  same  opposition  of  Bil  and  Bol  apparently 
occurs  in  the  Edda,  Grfmnism&l,  474,  where 
Bil-eygr  and  Bol-eygr  (Bal-eygr)  are  appel¬ 
latives  of  Odin,  which  may  signify  mild-eyed 
and  evil-eyed.  Bolvfs  is  found  again  in  the 
Hromund’s  saga,  under  the  description  of 
‘  Blind  the  Bad,’  and  ‘  the  Carl  Blind  whosd 
name  was  Bavfs.’  But  much  of  this  saga  is 
taken  from  the  story  of  Ilelgi  Hundingslayer ; 
and  Blind  the  Bad  in  the  saga  is  only  Sas- 
mund’s  Blindr  inn  bolvfsi,  —  the  blind  man 
whose  baleful  wit  sees  through  the  disguise  of 
Helgi,  and  all  but  betrays  the  rash  hero  to  his 
enemies ;  that  is,  Odin  in  his  malicious  mood 
(Bolverkr),  who  will  presently  be  seen  in  the 
ballad  of  4  Earl  Brand  ’  masking  as  Old  Carl 
Hood,  44  aye  for  ill  and  never  for  good.”  Orig¬ 
inally  and  properly,  perhaps,  only  the  bad 
member  of  this  mythical  pair  is  blind ;  but  it 
would  not  be  at  all  strange  that  later  tradi¬ 
tion,  which  confuses  and  degrades  so  much  in 
the  old  mythology,  should  transfer  blindness 
to  the  good-natured  one,  and  give  rise  to  the 
anomalous  Billie  Blind.  See  Grimm,  Deutsche 
Mythologie,  1879,  i,  391  ff ;  Uhland,  Zur  Ge- 
schichte  der  Dichtung  u.  Sage,  in,  132  ff,  vn, 
229;  Schmeller,  Bayerisches  Worterbuch,  ii, 
1037  ff,  ed.  1877  ;  Van  den  Bergh,  Woorden- 
boek  der  nederlandsche  Mythologie,  12. 

It  has  been  suggested  to  me  that  44  the 
Haleigh  throw  ”  in  E  6  is  a  corruption  of  the 
High  Leith  Row,  a  street  in  Edinburgh.  I 
have  not  as  yet  been  able  to  obtain  informa¬ 
tion  of  such  a  street. 

D  is  translated  by  Grundtvig,  Engelske  og 
skotske  Folkeviser,  No  40,  p.  262. 

also  by  Schmeller,  Bayerisches  Worterbuch,  from  J.  Praa- 
torius’s  Alectryomantia,  p.  3. 

f  Merlin,  in  Layamon,  v.  17130  ff  (as  pointed  out  by 
Grundtvig,  i,  274),  says  that  bis  mind  is  balewise,  “  mi  gaast 
is  basliwis,”  and  that  he  is  not  disposed  to  gladness,  mirth, 
or  good  words. 


68 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


A 

*0 

a.  Jamieson-Brown  MS.,  No  16,  fol.  34.  b.  William  Tyt- 
ler’s  Brown  MS.,  No  3.  From  the  recitation  of  Mrs  Brown 
of  Falkland,  1783,  Aberdeenshire. 

1  Gil  Bkenton  lias  sent  oer  the  fame, 

He ’s  woo’d  a  wife  an  brought  her  hame. 

2  Full  sevenscore  o  ships  came  her  wi, 

The  lady  by  the  greenwood  tree. 

3  There  was  twal  an  twal  wi  beer  an  wine, 

An  twal  an  twal  wi  muskadine  : 

4  An  twall  an  twall  wi  bouted  flowr, 

An  twall  an  twall  wi  paramour : 

5  An  twall  an  twall  wi  baken  bread, 

An  twall  an  twall  wi  the  goud  sae  red. 

6  Sweet  Willy  was  a  widow’s  son, 

An  at  her  stirrup-foot  he  did  run.. 

7  An  she  was  dressd  i  the  finest  pa, 

But  ay  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa. 

8  An  she  was  deckd  wi  the  fairest  flowrs. 

But  ay  she  loot  the  tears  down  pour. 

9  ‘O  is  there  water  i  your  shee ? 

Or  does  the  win  blaw  i  your  glee  ? 

10  ‘  Or  are  you  mourning  i  your  meed 
That  eer  you  left  your  mither  gueede  ? 

11  ‘Or  are  ye  mourning  i  your  tide 

That  ever  ye  was  Gil  Brenton’s  bride  ?  ’ 

12  £  The  [re]  is  nae  water  i  my  shee, 

Nor  does  the  win  hlaw  i  my  glee  : 

13  ‘Nor  am  I  mourning  i  my  tide 
That  eer  I  was  Gil  Brenton’s  bride  : 

14  ‘  But  I  am  mourning  i  my  meed 
That  ever  I  left  my  mither  gueede. 

15  ‘  But,  bonny  boy,  tell  to  me 

What  is  the  customs  o  your  country.’ 

16  ‘  The  customs  o ’t,  my  dame,’  he  says, 

‘  Will  ill  a  gentle  lady  please. 


‘  Seven  king’s  daughters  has  our  king  wedded, 
An  seven  king’s  daughters  has  our  king  bedded. 

‘  But  he ’s  cutted  the  paps  frae  their  hreast-bane, 
An  sent  them  mourning  hame  again. 

‘  But  whan  you  come  to  the  palace  yate, 

His  mither  a  golden  chair  will  set. 

‘  An  be  you  maid  or  he  you  nane, 

0  sit  you  there  till  the  day  be  dane. 

‘  An  gin  you  ’re  sure  that  you  are  a  maid, 

Ye  may  gang  safely  to  his  bed. 

‘  But  gin  o  that  you  be  na  sure, 

Then  hire  some  woman  o  youre  bowr.’ 

O  whan  she  came  to  the  palace  yate, 

His  mither  a  golden  chair  did  set. 

An  was  she  maid  or  was  she  nane, 

She  sat  in  it  till  the  day  was  dane. 

An  she ’s  calld  on  her  bowr  woman, 

That  waiting  was  her  bowr  within. 

‘  Five  hundred  pound,  maid,  I  ’ll  gi  to  the, 

An  sleep  this  night  wi  the  king  for  me.’ 

Whan  hells  was  rung,  an  mass  was  sung, 

An  a’  man  unto  bed  was  gone, 

Gil  Brenton  an  the  bonny  maid 
Intill  ae  chamber  they  were  laid. 

‘  0  speak  to  me,  blankets,  an  speak  to  me,  sheets, 
An  speak  to  me,  cods,  that  under  me  sleeps ; 

‘  Is  this  a  maid  that  I  ha  wedded  ? 

Is  this  a  maid  that  I  ha  bedded  ?  ’ 

‘  It ’s  nae  a  maid  that  you  ha  wedded, 

But  it ’s  a  maid  that  you  ha  bedded. 

‘  Your  lady ’s  in  her  bigly  bowr, 

An  for  you  she  drees  mony  sharp  showr.’ 

O  he  has  taen  him  thro  the  ha, 

And  on  his  mither  he  did  ca. 

‘  I  am  the  most  unhappy  man 
That  ever  was  in  christend  lan. 


17 

18 

19 

20 

21 

22 

23 

24 

25 

26 

27 

28 

29 

30 

31 

32 

33 

34 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


69 


35  ‘  I  woo’d  a  maiden  meek  an  mild, 

An  I ’ve  marry ed  a  woman  great  wi  child.’ 

36  ‘  O  stay,  my  son,  intill  this  ha, 

An  sport  you  wi  your  merry  men  a’. 

37  ‘  An  I  'll  gang  to  yon  painted  bowr, 

An  see  how ’t  fares  wi  yon  base  whore.’ 

38  The  auld  queen  she  was  stark  an  strang ; 
She  gard  the  door  flee  aff  the  ban. 

39  The  auld  queen  she  was  stark  an  steer ; 

She  gard  the  door  lye  i  the  fleer. 

40  ‘  O  is  your  bairn  to  laird  or  loon  ? 

Or  is  it  to  your  father’s  groom  ?  ’ 

41  ‘  My  bairn ’s  na  to  laird  or  loon, 

Nor  is  it  to  my  father’s  groom. 

42  ‘  But  hear  me,  initlier,  on  my  knee, 

An  my  hard  wierd  I  ’ll  tell  to  thee. 

43  ‘Owe  were  sisters,  sisters  seven, 

We  was  the  fairest  under  heaven. 

44  ‘We  had  nae  mair  for  our  seven  years  wark 
But  to  shape  an  sue  the  king’s  son  a  sark. 

45  ‘  0  it  fell  on  a  Saturday’s  afternoon, 

Whan  a’  our  langsome  wark  was  dane, 

46  ‘We  keist  the  cavils  us  amang, 

To  see  which  shoud  to  the  greenwood  gang. 

’  47  ‘  Ohone,  alas  !  for  I  was  youngest, 

An  ay  my  wierd  it  was  the  hardest. 

48  ‘  The  cavil  it  did  on  me  fa, 

Which  was  the  cause  of  a’  my  wae. 

49  ‘For  to  the  greenwood  I  must  gae, 

To  pu  the  nut  but  an  the  slae ; 

50  ‘  To  pu  the  red  rose  an  the  thyme, 

To  strew  my  mother’s  bowr  and  mine. 

51  ‘  I  had  na  pu’d  a  flowr  but  ane, 

Till  by  there  came  a  jelly  hind  greeme, 

52  ‘  Wi  high-colld  hose  an  laigh-colld  shoone, 
An  he  ’peard  to  be  some  kingis  son. 


53  ‘  An  be  I  maid  or  be  I  nane, 

He  kept  me  there  till  the  day  was  dane. 

54  ‘  An  be  I  maid  or  be  I  nae, 

He  kept  me  there  till  the  close  of  day. 

55  ‘  He  gae  me  a  lock  of  yallow  hair, 

An  bade  me  keep  it  for  ever  mair. 

56  ‘  He  gae  me  a  carket  o  gude  black  beads, 
An  bade  me  keep  them  against  my  needs. 

57  ‘  He  gae  to  me  a  gay  gold  ring, 

An  bade  me  ke[e]p  it  aboon  a’  thing. 

58  ‘  He  gae  to  me  a  little  pen-kniffe, 

An  bade  me  keep  it  as  my  life.’ 

59  ‘  What  did  you  wi  these  tokens  rare 
That  ye  got  frae  that  young  man  there  ?  ’ 

60  ‘  O  bring  that  coffer  hear  to  me, 

And  a’  the  tokens  ye  sal  see.’ 

61  An  ay  she  ranked,  an  ay  she  flang, 

Till  a’  the  tokens  came  till  her  han. 

I 

62  ‘  0  stay  here,  daughter,  your  bowr  within, 
Till  I  gae  parley  wi  my  son.’ 

63  O  she  has  taen  her  thro  the  ha, 

An  on  her  son  began  to  ca. 

64  ‘  What  did  you  wi  that  gay  gold  ring 
I  bade  you  keep  aboon  a’  thing  ? 

65  ‘  What  did  you  wi  that  little  pen-kniffe 
I  bade  you  keep  while  you  had  life  ? 

66  ‘  What  did  you  wi  that  yallow  hair 
I  bade  you  keep  for  ever  mair  ? 

67  ‘  What  did  you  wi  that  good  black  beeds 
I  bade  you  keep  against  your  needs  ?  ’ 

68  ‘  I  gae  them  to  a  lady  gay 

I  met  i  the  greenwood  on  a  day. 

69  ‘  An  I  would  gi  a’  my  father’s  lan, 

I  had  that  lady  my  yates  within. 

70  ‘I  would  gi  a’  my  ha’s  an  towrs, 

I  had  that  bright  burd  i  my  bowrs.’ 


5.  GIL  BRENTOH 


70 


71  ‘O  son,  keep  still  your  father’s  lan  ; 
You  hae  that  lady  your  yates  within. 

72  ‘  An  keep  you  still  your  ha’s  an  towrs  ; 
You  hae  that  bright  burd  i  your  bowrs.’ 


73  Now  or  a  month  was  come  an  gone, 

This  lady  hare  a  bonny  young  son. 

74  An  it  was  well  written  on  his  breast-bane 
‘  Gil  Brenton  is  my  father’s  name.’ 


B 

Scott’s  Minstrelsy,  ii,  117,  ed.  1802.  Ed.  1830,  in,  263. 

Partly  from  the  recitation  of  Miss  Christian  Rutherford. 

1  Cospatrick  has  sent  oer  the  faem, 

Cospatrick  brought  his  ladye  hame. 

2  And  fourscore  ships  have  come  her  wi, 

The  ladye  by  the  grenewood  tree. 

3  There  were  twal  and  twal  wi  baken  bread, 

And  twal  and  twal  wi  gowd  sae  reid : 

4  And  twal  and  twal  wi  bouted  flour, 

And  twal  and  twal  wi  the  paramour. 

5  Sweet  Willy  was  a  widow’s  son, 

And  at  her  stirrup  he  did  run. 

6  And  she  was  clad  in  the  finest  pall, 

But  aye  she  let  the  tears  down  fall. 

7  ‘  0  is  your  saddle  set  awrye  ? 

Or  rides  your  steed  for  you  owre  high  ? 

8  1  Or  are  you  mourning  in  your  tide 
That  you  suld  be  Cospatrick’s  bride  ?  ’ 

9  ‘  I  am  not  mourning  at  this  tide 
That  I  suld  be  Cospatrick’s  bride  ; 

10  ‘  But  I  am  sorrowing  in  my  mood 
That  I  suld  leave  my  mother  good. 

11  ‘  But,  gentle  boy,  come  tell  to  me, 

What  is  the  custom  of  thy  countrye  ?  ’ 

12  1  The  custom  thereof,  my  dame,’  he  says, 

‘  Will  ill  a  gentle  laydye  please. 

13  ‘  Seven  king’s  daughters  has  our  lord  wedded, 
And  seven  king’s  daughters  has  our  lord 

bedded  ; 


14  ‘  But  he ’s  cutted  their  breasts  frae  their  breast 

bane, 

And  sent  them  mourning  hame  again. 

15  ‘  Yet,  gin  you  ’re  sure  that  you  ’re  a  maid, 

Ye  may  gae  safely  to  his  bed ; 

16  ‘  But  gif  o  that  ye  be  na  sure, 

Then  hire  some  damsell  o  your  bour.’ 

17  The  ladye ’s  calld  her  bour-maiden, 

That  waiting  was  into  her  train  ; 

18  ‘  Five  thousand  merks  I  will  gie  thee, 

To  sleep  this  night  with  my  lord  for  me.’ 

19  When  bells  were  rung,  and  mass  was  sayne, 
And  a’  men  unto  bed  were  gane, 

20  Cospatrick  and  the  bonny  maid, 

Into  ae  chamber  they  were  laid. 

21  ‘  Now,  speak  to  me,  blankets,  and  speak  to  me, 

bed, 

And  speak,  thou  sheet,  inchanted  web ; 

22  ‘  And  speak  up,  my  bonny  brown  sword,  that 

winna  lie, 

Is  this  a  true  maiden  that  lies  by  me  ?  ’ 

23  ‘  It  is  not  a  maid  that  you  hae  wedded, 

But  it  is  a  maid  that  you  hae  bedded. 

24  ‘  It  is  a  liel  maiden  that  lies  by  thee, 

But  not  the  maiden  that  it  should  be.’ 

25  O  wrathfully  he  left  the  bed, 

And  wrathfully  his  claiths  on  did. 

26  And  he  has  taen  him  thro  the  ha, 

And  on  his  mother  he  did  ca. 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


71 


27  ‘  I  am  the  most  unhappy  man 
That  ever  was  in  christen  land  ! 

28  ‘  I  courted  a  maiden  meik  and  mild, 

And  I  hae  gotten  naething  but  a  woman  wi 
child.’ 

29  ‘  O  stay,  my  son,  into  this  ha, 

And  sport  ye  wi  your  merrymen  a’ ; 

30  ‘  And  I  will  to  the  secret  hour, 

To  see  how  it  fares  wi  your  paramour.’ 

31  The  carline  she  was  stark  and  sture ; 

She  aff  the  lunges  dang  the  dure. 

32  ‘  O  is  your  bairn  to  laird  or  loun  ? 

Or  is  it  to  your  father’s  groom  ?  ’ 

33  ‘  O  hear  me,  mother,  on  my  knee, 

Till  my  sad  story  I  tell  to  thee. 

34  ‘  O  we  were  sisters,  sisters  seven, 

We  were  the  fairest  under  heaven. 

35  ‘  It  fell  on  a  summer’s  afternoon, 

When  a’  our  toilsome  task  was  done, 

36  ‘We  cast  the  kavils  us  amang, 

To  see  which  suld  to  the  grene-wood  gang. 

37  ‘  0  hon,  alas  !  for  I  was  youngest, 

And  aye  my  wierd  it  was  the  hardest. 

38  ‘  The  kavil  it  on  me  did  fa, 

Whilk  was  the  cause  of  a’  my  woe. 

39  ‘For  to  the  grene-wood  I  maun  gae, 

To  pu  the  red  rose  and  the  slae  ; 

40  ‘  To  pu  the  red  rose  and  the  thyme, 

To  deck  my  mother’s  hour  and  mine. 

41  ‘  I  hadna  pu’d  a  flower  but  ane, 

When  by  there  came  a  gallant  hende, 

42  Wi  high-colld  hose  and  laigh-colld  shoon, 
And  he  seemd  to  be  sum  king’s  son. . 

43  ‘  And  be  I  maid  or  be  I  nae, 

He  kept  me  there  till  the  close  o  day. 


‘  And  be  I  maid  or  be  I  nane, 

He  kept  me  there  till  the  day  was  done. 

‘  He  gae  me  a  lock  o  his  yellow  hair, 

And  bade  me  keep  it  ever  mair. 

‘  He  gae  me  a  carknet  o  bonny  beads, 

And  bade  me  keep  it  against  my  needs. 

‘  He  gae  to  me  a  gay  gold  ring, 

And  bade  me  keep  it  abune  a’  thing.’ 

‘  What  did  ye  wi  the  tokens  rare 
That  ye  gat  frae  that  gallant  there  ?  ’ 

‘  0  bring  that  coffer  unto  me, 

And  a’  the  tokens  ye  sail  see.’ 

‘  Now  stay,  daughter,  your  hour  within, 
While  I  gae  parley  wi  my  son.’ 

• 

O  she  has  taen  her  thro  the  ha, 

And  on  her  son  began  to  ca. 

‘  What  did  you  wi  the  bonny  beads 
I  bade  ye  keep  against  your  needs  ? 

‘  What  did  you  wi  the  gay  gowd  ring 
I  bade  ye  keep  abune  a’  thing  ?  ’ 

‘  I  gae  them  a’  to  a  ladye  gay 
I  met  in  grene-wood  on  a  day. 

‘  But  I  wad  gie  a’  my  halls  and  tours, 

I  had  that  ladye  within  my  hours. 

‘  But  I  wad  gie  my  very  life, 

I  had  that  ladye  to  my  wife.’ 

‘  Now  keep,  my  son,  your  ha’s  and  tours ; 
Ye  have  that  bright  burd  in  your  hours. 

‘  And  keep,  my  son,  your  very  life  ; 

Ye  have  that  ladye  to  your  wife.’ 

Now  or  a  month  was  cum  and  gane, 

The  ladye  bore  a  bonny  son. 

And ’t  was  weel  written  on  his  breast-bane, 
‘  Cospatrick  is  my  father’s  name.’ 

‘  O  rowe  my  ladye  in  satin  and  silk, 

And  wash  my  son  in  the  morning  milk.’ 


44 

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61 


72 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


C 

Cromek’s  Remaihs  of  Nithsdale  and  Galloway  Song,  p. 
207.  “  Erom  the  recital  of  a  peasant-woman  of  Galloway, 

upwards  of  ninety  years  of  age.” 

1  We  were  sisters,  we  were  seven, 

We  were  the  fairest  under  heaven. 

2  And  it  was  a’  our  seven  years  wark 
To  sew  our  father’s  seven  sarks. 

3  And  whan  our  seven  years  wark  was  done, 

We  laid  it  out  upo  the  green. 

4  We  coost  the  lotties  us  amang, 

Wha  wad  to  the  greenwood  gang, 

5  To  pu  the  lily  but  and  the  rose, 

To  strew  witha’  our  sisters’  bowers. 

6  . I  was  youngest, 

. my  weer  was  hardest. 

7  And  to  the  greenwood  I  bud  gae, 

8  There  I  met  a  handsome  childe, 

•  •  •  •  • 

9  High-coled  stockings  and  laigh-coled  shoon, 

He  bore  him  like  a  king’s  son. 

10  An  was  I  weel,  or  was  I  wae, 

He  keepit  me  a’  the  simmer  day. 

11  An  though  I  for  my  hame-gaun  sich[t], 

He  keepit  me  a’  the  simmer  night. 

12  He  gae  to  me  a  gay  gold  ring, 

And  bade  me  keep  it  aboon  a’  tiling. 

13  He  gae  to  me  a  cuttie  knife, 

And  bade  me  keep  it  as  my  life  : 

14  Three  lauchters  o  his  yellow  hair, 

For  fear  we  wad  neer  meet  mair. 

.y, 

*7V  *7V  *7**  *7V 

15  Next  there  came  shippes  three, 

To  carry  a’  my  bridal  fee. 

16  Gowd  were  the  beaks,  the  sails  were  silk, 
Wrought  wi  maids’  hands  like  milk. 


They  came  toom  and  light  to  me, 

But  heavie  went  they  waie  frae  me. 

They  were  fu  o  baken  bread, 

They  were  fu  of  wine  sae  red. 

My  dowry  went  a’  by  the  sea, 

But  I  gaed  by  the  grenewode  tree. 

An  I  sighed  and  made  great  mane, 

As  thro  the  grenewode  we  rade  our  lane. 

An  I  ay  siched  an  wiped  my  ee, 

That  eer  the  grenewode  I  did  see. 

‘  Is  there  water  in  your  glove, 

Or  win  into  your  shoe  ? 

0[r]  am  I  oer  low  a  foot-page 
To  rin  by  you,  ladie  ?  ’ 

‘  0  there ’s  nae  water  in  my  glove, 

Nor  win  into  my  shoe  ; 

But  I  am  maning  for  my  mither 
Wha ’s  far  awa  frae  me.’ 
***** 

‘  Gin  ye  be  a  maiden  fair, 

Meikle  gude  ye  will  get  there. 

‘  If  ye  he  a  maiden  but, 

Meikle  sorrow  will  ye  get. 

‘  For  seven  king’s  daughters  he  hath  wedded, 
But  never  wi  ane  o  them  has  bedded. 

‘  He  cuts  the  breasts  frae  their  breast-bane, 
An  sends  them  back  unto  their  dame. 

‘  He  sets  their  backs  unto  the  saddle, 

An  sends  them  back  unto  their  father. 

‘  But  be  ye  maiden  or  be  ye  nane, 

To  the  gowden  chair  ye  draw  right  soon. 

‘  But  be  ye  leman  or  be  ye  maiden, 

Sit  nae  down  till  ye  be  bidden.’ 

Was  she  maiden  or  was  she  nane, 

To  the  gowden  chair  she  drew  right  soon. 

Was  she  leman  or  was  she  maiden, 

She  sat  down  ere  she  was  bidden. 


17 

18 

19 

20 

21 

22 

23 

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25 

26 

27 

% 

28 

29 

30 

31 

32 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


73 


33  Out  then  spake  the  lord’s  mother ; 

Says,  ‘  This  is  not  a  maiden  fair. 

34  ‘  In  that  chair  nae  leal  maiden 
Eer  sits  down  till  they  be  bidden.’ 

35  The  Billie  Blin  then  outspake  he, 

As  he  stood  by  the  fair  ladie. 

36  ‘  The  bonnie  may  is  tired  wi  riding, 
Gaurd  her  sit  down  ere  she  was  bidden.’ 

***** 

37  But  on  her  waiting-maid  she  ca’d  : 

‘  Fair  ladie,  what ’s  your  will  wi  me  ?  ’ 

‘  O  ye  maun  gie  yere  maidenheid 
This  night  to  an  unco  lord  for  me.’ 

38  ‘  I  hae  been  east,  I  hae  been  west, 

I  hae  been  far  beyond  the  sea, 

But  ay,  by  grenewode  or  by  bower, 

I  hae  keepit  my  virginitie. 

39  ‘  But  will  it  for  my  ladie  plead, 

I  ’ll  gie ’t  this  night  to  an  unco  lord.’ 
***** 

40  When  bells  were  rung  an  vespers  sung, 
An  men  in  sleep  were  locked  soun, 

41  Childe  Branton  and  the  waiting-maid 
Into  the  bridal  bed  were  laid. 

42  ‘  0  lie  thee  down,  my  fair  ladie, 

Here  are  a’  things  meet  for  thee  ; 

43  ‘  Here ’s  a  bolster  for  yere  head, 

Here  is  sheets  an  comelie  weids.’ 

*  *  *  * 

44  ‘Now  tell  to  me,  ye  Billie  Blin, 

If  this  fair  dame  be  a  leal  maiden.’ 

45  ‘  I  wat  she  is  as  leal  a  wight 

As  the  moon  shines  on  in  a  simmer  night. 

46  ‘  I  wat  she  is  as  leal  a  may 

As  the  sun  shines  on  in  a  simmer  day. 

47  ‘  But  your  bonnie  bride ’s  in  her  bower, 
Dreeing  the  mither’s  trying  hour.’ 

48  Then  out  o  his  bridal  bed  he  sprang, 

An  into  his  mither’s  bower  he  ran. 

10 


‘  O  mither  kind,  O  mither  dear, 

This  is  nae  a  maiden  fair. 

‘  The  maiden  I  took  to  my  bride 
Has  a  bairn  atween  her  sides. 

‘  The  maiden  I  took  to  my  bower 
Is  dreeing  the  mither’s  trying  hour.’ 

Then  to  the  chamber  his  mother  flew, 

And  to  the  wa  the  door  she  threw. 

She  stapt  at  neither  bolt  nor  ban. 

Till  to  that  ladie’s  bed  she  wan. 

Says,  ‘  Ladie  fair,  sae  meek  an  mild, 

Wha  is  the  father  o  yere  child  ?  ’ 

‘  O  mither  dear,’  said  that  ladie, 

‘  I  canna  tell  gif  I  sud  die. 

‘  We  were  sisters,  we  were  seven, 

We  were  the  fairest  under  heaven. 

‘  And  it  was  a’  our  seven  years  wark 
To  sew  our  father’s  seven  sarks. 

‘  And  whan  our  seven  years  wark  was  done, 
We  laid  it  out  upon  the  green. 

‘  We  coost  the  lotties  us  amang, 

Wha  wad  to  the  greenwode  gang  ; 

‘  To  pu  the  lily  but  an  the  rose, 

To  strew  witha’  our  sisters’  bowers. 

. ‘I  was  youngest, 

. my  weer  was  hardest. 

‘  And  to  the  greenwode  I  bu[d]  gae. 

‘  There  I  met  a  handsome  childe, 

•  •  •  • 

» 

‘  Wi  laigh-coled  stockings  and  high-coled  shoon, 
He  seemed  to  be  some  king’s  son. 

‘  And  was  I  weel  or  was  I  wae, 

He  keepit  me  a’  the  simmer  day. 

‘  Though  for  my  hame-gaun  I  oft  sicht, 

He  keepit  me  a’  the  simmer  night. 


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58 

59 

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61 

62 

63 

64 

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66 


74  5.  GIL 

67  4  He  gae  to  me  a  gay  gold  ring, 

An  bade  me- keep  it  aboon  a’  thing ; 

68  4  Three  lauchters  o  his  yellow  hair, 

For  fear  that  we  suld  neer  meet  mair. 

69  4  0  mither,  if  ye  ’ll  believe  nae  me, 

Break  up  the  coffer,  an  there  ye  ’ll  see.’ 

70  An  ay  she  coost,  an  ay  she  flang, 

Till  her  ain  gowd  ring  came  in  her  hand. 

71  And  scarce  aught  i  the  coffer  she  left, 

Till  she  gat  the  knife  wi  the  siller  heft, 

72  Three  lauchters  o  his  yellow  hair, 

Knotted  wi  ribbons  dink  and  rare. 

73  She  cried  to  her  son,  4  Where  is  the  ring 
Your  father  gave  me  at  our  wooing, 

An  I  gae  you  at  your  hunting  ? 

74  4  What  did  ye  wi  the  cuttie  knife, 

I  bade  ye  keep  it  as  yere  life  ?  ’ 

75  4  O  haud  yere  tongue,  my  mither  dear  ; 

I  gae  them  to  a  lady  fair. 


BRENTON 

76  4 1  wad  gie  a’  my  lands  and  rents, 

I  had  that  ladie  within  my  hrents. 

77  4  1  wad  gie  a’  my  lands  an  towers, 

I  had  that  ladie  within  my  bowers.’ 

78  4  Keep  still  yere  lands,  keep  still  yere  rents  ; 
Ye  hae  that  ladie  within  yere  brents. 

79  4  Keep  still  yere  lands,  keep  still  yere  towers  ; 
Ye  hae  that  lady  within  your  bowers.’ 

80  Then  to  his  ladie  fast  ran  he, 

An  low  he  kneeled  on  his  knee. 

81  4  O  tauk  ye  up  my  son,’  said  he, 

4  An,  mither,  tent  my  fair  ladie. 

82  4  0  wash  him  purely  i  the  milk, 

And  lay  him  saftly  in  the  silk. 

83  4  An  ye  maun  bed  her  very  soft, 

Fori  maun  kiss  her  wondrous  oft.’ 

84  It  was  weel  written  on  his  breast-bane 
Childe  Branton  was  the  father’s  name. 

85  It  was  weel  written  on  his  right  hand 
He  was  the  heir  o  his  daddie’s  land. 


D 

Buchan’s  Ancient  Ballads  and  Songs  of  the  North  of  Scot¬ 
land,  x,  204. 

1  We  were  sisters,  sisters  seven, 

Bowing  down,  bowing  down 
The  fairest  women  under  heaven. 

And  aye  the  birks  a-bowing 

2  They  kiest  kevels  them  amang, 

Wha  woud  to  the  grenewood  gang. 

3  The  kevels  they  gied  thro  the  ha, 

And  on  the  youngest  it  did  fa. 

4  Now  she  must  to  the  grenewood  gang, 

To  pu  the  nuts  in  grenewood  hang. 

5  She  hadna  tarried  an  hour  but  ane 
Till  she  met  wi  a  highlan  groom. 


He  keeped  her  sae  late  and  lang 
Till  the  evening  set  and  birds  they  sang. 

7  He  gae  to  her  at  their  parting 

A  chain  o  gold  and  gay  gold  ring ; 

8  And  three  locks  o  his  yellow  hair ; 

Bade  her  keep  them  for  evermair. 

9  When  six  lang  months  were  come  and  gane. 
A  courtier  to  this  lady  came. 

10  Lord  Dingwall  courted  this  lady  gay, 

And  so  he  set  their  wedding-day. 

11  A  little  boy  to  the  ha  was  sent, 

To  bring  her  horse  was  his  intent. 

12  As  she  was  riding  the  way  along, 

She  began  to  make  a  heavy  moan. 


6 


5.  GIL  BltEXTON 


75 


13  *  What  ails  you,  lady,’  the  boy  said, 

‘  That  ye  seem  sae  dissatisfied  ? 

14  ‘  Are  the  bridle  reins  for  you  too  strong  ? 

Or  the  stirrups  for  you  too  long  ?  ’ 

15  ‘  But,  little  boy,  will  ye  tell  me 

The  fashions  that  are  in  your  countrie  ?  ’ 

16  ‘  The  fashions  in  our  ha  I  ’ll  tell, 

And  o  them  a’  I  ’ll  warn  you  well. 

17  ‘  When  ye  come  in  upon  the  floor, 

His  mither  will  meet  you  wi  a  golden  chair. 

18  ‘  But  be  ye  maid  or  he  ye  nane, 

Unto  the  high  seat  make  ye  boun. 

19  ‘  Lord  Dingwall  aft  has  been  beguild 
By  girls  whom  young  men  hae  defiled. 

20  ‘  He ’s  cutted  the  paps  frae  their  breast-bane, 
And  sent  them  back  to  their  ain  hame.’ 

21  When  she  came  in  upon  the  floor, 

His  mother  met  her  wi  a  golden  chair. 

22  But  to  the  high  seat  she  made  her  boun : 

She  knew  that  maiden  she  was  nane. 

23  When  night  was  come,  they  went  to  bed, 

And  ower  her  breast  his  arm  he  laid. 

24  He  quickly  jumped  upon  the  floor, 

And  said,  ‘  I ’ve  got  a  vile  rank  whore.’ 

25  Unto  his  mother  he  made  his  moan, 

Says,  ‘  Mother  dear,  I  am  undone. 

26  ‘  Ye ’ve  aft  takl,  when  I  brought  them  hame, 
Whether  they  were  maid  or  nane. 

27  ‘  I  thought  I ’d  gotten  a  maiden  bright ; 

I ’ve  gotten  but  a  waefu  wight. 

28  ‘  I  thought  I ’d  gotten  a  maiden  clear, 

But  gotten  but  a  vile  rank  whore.’ 

29  ‘  When  she  came  in  upon  the  floor, 

I  met  her  wi  a  golden  chair. 

30  ‘  But  to  the  high  seat  she  made  her  boun. 
Because  a  maiden  she  was  nane.’ 


31  ‘  I  wonder  wha ’s  tauld  that  gay  ladie 
The  fashion  into  our  countrie.’ 

32  1  It  is  your  little  boy  I  blame, 

Whom  ye  did  send  to  bring  her  hame.’ 

33  Then  to  the  lady  she  did  go, 

And  said,  ‘  O  Lady,  let  me  know 

34  ‘  Who  has  defiled  your  fair  bodie : 

Ye  ’re  the  first  that  has  beguiled  me.’ 

35  ‘Owe  were  sisters,  sisters  seven, 

The  fairest  women  under  heaven. 

36  ‘  And  we  kiest  kevels  us  amang, 

Wha  woud  to  the  grenewood  gang  ; 

37  ‘  For  to  pu  the  finest  flowers, 

To  put  around  our  summer  bowers. 

38  ‘  I  was  the  youngest  o  them  a’ ; 

The  hardest  fortune  did  me  befa. 

39  ‘  Unto  the  grenewood  I  did  gang, 

And  pu’d  the  nuts  as  they  down  hang. 

40  ‘  I  hadna  stayd  an  hour  but  ane 
Till  I  met  wi  a  highlan  groom. 

41  ‘  He  keeped  me  sae  late  and  lang 

Till  the  evening  set  and  birds  they  sang. 

42  ‘  He  gae  to  me  at  our  parting 

A  chain  of  gold  and  gay  gold  ring  ; 

43  ‘  And  three  locks  o  his  yellow  hair ; 
Bade  me  keep  them  for  evermair. 

44  ‘  Then  for  to  show  I  make  nae  lie, 

Look  ye  my  trunk,  and  ye  will  see.’ 

45  Unto  the  trunk  then  she  did  go, 

To  see  if  that  were  true  or  no. 

46  And  aye  she  sought,  and  aye  she  flang, 
Till  these  four  things  came  to  her  hand. 

47  Then  she  did  to  her  ain  son  go, 

And  said,  ‘  My  son,  ye  ’ll  let  me  know, 

48  ‘Ye  will  tell  to  me  this  thing  : 

What  did  you  wi  my  wedding-ring  ?  ’ 


76  5.  GIL 

49  ‘  Mother  dear,-  I  ’ll  tell  nae  lie  : 

I  gave  it  to  a  gay  ladie. 

50  ‘  I  would  gie  a’  my  ha’s  and  towers, 

I  had  this  bird  within  my  bowers.’ 

51  ‘  Keep  well,  keep  well  your  lands  and  strands  ; 
Ye  hae  that  bird  within  your  hands. 

52  ‘  Now,  my  son,  to  your  bower  ye  ’ll  go  : 
Comfort  your  ladie,  she ’s  full  o  woe.’ 


E 

Elizabeth  Cochrane’s  Song-Book,  p.  146,  No  112. 

1  Lord  Beitwall  he ’s  a  hunting  gone  ; 

Hey  down,  etc. 

He ’s  taken  with  him  all  his  merry  men. 

Hey,  etc. 

2  As  he  was  walking  late  alone, 

He  spyed  a  lady  both  brisk  and  young. 

3  He  keeped  her  so  long  and  long, 

From  the  evening  late  till  the  morning  came. 

4  All  that  he  gave  her  at  their  parting 
Was  a  pair  of  gloves  and  a  gay  gold  ring. 

5  Lord  Benwall  he ’s  a  wooing  gone, 

And  he ’s  taken  with  him  all  his  merry  men. 

6  As  he  was  walking  the  Haleigh  throw, 

He  spy’d  seven  ladyes  all  in  a  row. 

7  He  cast  a  lot  among  them  all ; 

Upon  the  youngest  the  lot  did  fall. 

8  He  wedded  her  and  brought  her  home, 

And  by  the  way  she  made  great  moan. 

9  ‘  What  aileth  my  dearest  and  dayly  flower  ? 
What  ails  my  dear,  to  make  such  moan  ? 

10  ‘  Does  the  steed  carry  you  too  high  ? 

Or  does  thy  pillow  sit  awry  ? 

11  ‘  Or  does  the  wind  blow  in  thy  glove  ? 

Or  is  thy  heart  after  another  love  ?  ’ 


BRENTON 

53  Now  when  nine  months  were  come  and  gane, 
The  lady  she  brought  hame  a  son. 

54  It  was  written  on  his  breast-bane 
Lord  Dingwall  was  his  father’s  name. 

55  He ’s  taen  his  young  son  in  his  arms, 

And  aye  he  praisd  his  lovely  charms. 

56  And  he  has  gien  him  kisses  three, 

And  doubled  them  ower  to  his  ladie. 


12  ‘  The  steed  does  not  carry  me  too  high, 

Nor  does  my  pillow  sit  awry. 

13  ‘  Nor  does  the  wind  blow  in  my  glove, 

Nor  is  my  heart  after  another  love.’ 

14  When  they  were  doun  to  supper  set, 

The  weary  pain  took  her  by  the  back. 

15  ‘  What  ails  my  dearest  and  dayly  flower  ? 

What  ails  my  dearest,  to  make  such  moan  ?  ’ 

16  ‘  I  am  with  child,  and  it ’s  not  to  thee, 

And  oh  and  alas,  what  shall  I  doe !  ’ 

17  ‘  I  thought  I  had  got  a  maid  so  mild ; 

But  I  have  got  a  woman  big  with  child. 

18  ‘  I  thought  I  had  got  a  dayly  flower  ; 

I  have  gotten  but  a  common  whore.’ 

#  #  #  #  * 

19  ‘  Rise  up,  Lord  Benwall,  go  to  your  hall, 

And  cherrish  up  your  merry  men  all.’ 

-U-  Jfc  ^L.  41, 

■7V  •vr  -Jr  -7f*  -7T 

20  ‘  As  I  was  walking  once  late  alone, 

I  spy’d  a  lord,  both  brisk  and  young. 

21  ‘  He  keeped  me  so  long  and  long. 

From  the  evening  late  till  the  morning  came. 

22  ‘  All  that  he  gave  me  at  our  parting 

W as  a  pair  of  gloves  and  a  gay  gold  ring. 

23  ‘  If  you  will  not  believe  what  I  tell  to  thee, 
There ’s  the  key  of  my  coffer,  you  may  go  and 

see.’ 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


77 


24  His  mother  went,  and  threw  and  flang, 

Till  to  her  hand  the  ring  it  came. 

25  ‘  Lord  Benwall,  wilt  thou  tell  to  me 
Where  is  the  ring  I  gave  to  thee  ?  ’ 

26  ‘  Now  I  would  give  all  my  lands  and  tower, 
To  have  that  lady  in  my  bower. 

27  ‘  I  would  give  all  my  lands  and  rents, 

To  have  that  lady  in  my  tents.’ 

28  ‘You  need  not  give  all  your  lands  and  tower, 
For  you  have  that  lady  in  your  power. 


F 

a.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  219.  From  the  recitation  of  Mrs 
Thomson,  February,  1825.  b.  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  Ap¬ 
pendix,  p.  xvi,  the  first  stanza  only. 

1  There  were  three  sisters  in  a  bouir, 

Eh  down  and  Oh  down 

And  the  youngest  o  them  was  the  fairest  flour. 
Eh  down  and  O  down 

2  And  we  began  our  seven  years  wark, 

To  sew  our  brither  John  a  sark. 

3  When  seven  years  was  come  and  gane, 

There  was  nae  a  sleeve  in  it  but  ane. 

t 

4  But  we  coost  kevils  us  amang 
Wha  wud  to  the  green-wood  gang. 

5  But  tho  we  had  coosten  neer  sae  lang, 

The  lot  it  fell  on  me  aye  to  gang. 

6  I  was  the  youngest,  and  I  was  the  fairest, 

And  alace  !  my  wierd  it  was  aye  the  sairest. 

7 

Till  I  had  to  the  woods  to  gae. 

8  To  pull  the  cherrie  and  the  slae, 

And  to  seek  our  ae  brither,  we  had  nae  mae. 

9  But  as  I  was  walking  the  leas  o  Lyne, 

I  met  a  youth  gallant  and  fine ; 

10  Wi  milk  white  stockings  and  coal  black  shoon ; 
He  seemed  to  be  some  gay  lord’s  son. 


29  ‘You  need  not  give  all  your  lands  and  rents, 
For  you  have  that  lady  in  your  tents.’ 

30  Now  it  was  written  on  the  child’s  breast-bone 
Lord  Benwall's  sirname  and  his  name. 

31  It  was  written  on  the  child’s  right  hand 

That  he  should  be  heir  of  Lord  Benwall’s  land. 

32  ‘  Canst  cloath  my  lady  in  the  silk, 

And  feed  my  young  son  with  the  milk.’ 


< 

11  But  he  keepit  me  there  sae  lang,  sae  lang, 

Till  the  maids  in  the  morning  were  singing 

their  sang. 

12  Would  I  wee  or  would  I  way, 

He  keepit  me  the  lang  simmer  day. 

13  Would  I  way  or  would  I  wight. 

He  keepit  me  the  simmer  night. 

14  But  guess  what  Avas  at  our  parting  ? 

A  pair  o  grass  green  gloves  and  a  gay  gold 
ring. 

15  He  ga\Te  me  three  plaits  o  his  yellow  hair, 

In  token  that  we  might  meet  mair. 

16  But  when  nine  months  were  come  and  gane, 
This  gallant  lord  cam  back  again. 

17  He ’s  wed  this  lady,  and  taen  her  wi  him  ; 

But  as  they  were  riding  the  leas  o  Lyne, 

18  This  lady  was  not  able  to  ride, 

•  •  •  •  • 

19  ‘  0  does  thy  saddle  set  thee  aside  ? 

Or  does  thy  steed  ony  wrang  way  ride  ? 

20  ‘  Or  thinkst  thou  me  too  low  a  groom  ? 

•  •  •  •  • 

21  ‘  Or  hast  thou  musing  in  thy  mind 
For  the  leaving  of  thy  mother  kind  ?  ’ 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


78 

22  ‘  My  saddle  it  sets  not  me  aside, 

Nor  does  my  steed  ony  wrang  way  ride. 

23  ‘Nor  think  I  thee  too  low  a  groom 

24  ‘  But  I  hae  musing  in  my  mind 
For  the  leaving  of  my  mother  kind.’ 

25  ‘  I  ’ll  bring  thee  to  a  mother  of  mine, 

As  good  a  mother  as  eer  was  thine.’ 

26  £  A  better  mother  she  may  be, 

But  an  unco  woman  she  ’ll  prove  to  me.’ 

27  But  when  lords  and  ladies  at  supper  sat, 

Her  pains  they  struck  her  in  the  back. 

28  When  lords  and  ladies  were  laid  in  bed, 

Her  pains  they  struck  her  in  the  side. 

29  ‘  Rise  up,  rise  up,  now,  Lord  BrangwiLl, 

For  I ’m  wi  child  and  you  do  not  know  ’t.’ 

30  He  took  up  his  foot  and  gave  her  sic  a  hang 
Till  owre  the  bed  the  red  blood  sprang. 

31  He  is  up  to  his  mother’s  ha, 

Calling  her  as  hard  as  he  could  ca. 

32  ‘  I  went  through  moss  and  I  went  through 

mure, 

Thinking  to  get  some  lily  flouir. 

33  ..... 

‘  But  to  my  house  I  have  brocht  a  hure. 

34  ‘ 1  thocht  to  have  got  a  lady  baith  meek  and 

mild, 

But  I  ’ve  got  a  woman  that ’s  big  wi  child.’ 

35  ‘  O  rest  you  here,  Lord  Brangwill,’  she  said, 

‘  Till  I  relieve  your  lady  that  lyes  so  low.’ 

36  ‘  0  daughter  dear,  will  you  tell  to  me 
Who  is  the  father  of  your  babie  ?  ’ 

37  ‘  Yes,  mother  dear,  I  will  tell  thee 
Who  is  the  father  of  my  babie. 

38  ‘  As  I  was  walking  the  leas  o  Lyne, 

I  met  a  youth  gallant  and  fine  ; 


39  1  With  milk-white  stockings  and  coal-black 

shoon  ; 

He  seemd  to  be  sum  gay  lord’s  son. 

40  ‘  He  keepit  me  sae  lang,  sae  lang, 

Till  the  maids  in  the  morning  were  singing 
their  sang. 

41  ‘  Would  I  wee  or  would  I  way, 

He  keepit  me  the  lang  simmer  day. 

42  ‘  Would  I  way  or  would  I  wight, 

He  keepit  me  the  simmer  night. 

43  ‘  But  guess  ye  what  was  at  our  parting  ? 

A  pair  of  grass  green  gloves  and  a  gay  gold 
ring. 

44  ‘  He  gave  me  three  plaits  o  his  yellow  hair, 

In  token  that  we  might  meet  mair.’ 

45  ‘  O  dochter  dear,  will  ye  show  me 
These  tokens  that  he  gave  to  thee  ?  ’ 

46  ‘  Altho  my  back  should  break  in  three, 

Unto  my  coffer  I  must  be.’ 

47  ‘  Thy  back  it  shall  not  break  in  three, 

For  I  ’ll  bring  thy  coffer  to  thy  knee.’ 

48  Aye  she  coost,  and  aye  she  flang, 

Till  these  three  tokens  came  to  her  hand. 

49  Then  she  is  up  to  her  son’s  ha, 

Calling  him  hard  as  she  could  ca. 

50  ‘  0  son,  O  son,  will  you  tell  me 

•  •  •  •  • 

51  ‘  What  ye  did  wi  the  grass  green  gloves  and 

gay  gold  ring 

That  ye  gat  at  your  own  birth-een  ?  ’ 

52  ‘  I  gave  them  to  as  pretty  a  may 
As  ever  I  saw  in  a  simmer  day. 

53  ‘  I  wud  rather  than  a’  my  lands  sae  broad 
That  I  had  her  as  sure  as  eer  I  had. 

54  ‘  I  would  rather  than  a’  my  lands  sae  free 
I  had  her  here  this  night  wi  me.’ 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


70 


55  ‘  I  wish  you  good  o  your  lands  sae  broad. 
For  ye  have  her  as  sure  as  eer  ye  had. 

5G  ‘  I  wish  ye  good  o  your  lands  sae  free, 
For  ye  have  her  here  this  night  wi  thee.’ 


57  ‘  Gar  wash  my  auld  son  in  the  milk. 

Gar  deck  my  lady’s  bed  wi  silk.’ 

58  He  gave  his  auld  son  kisses  three, 

But  he  doubled  them  a’  to  his  gay  ladye. 


G 

Herd’s  Ancient  and  Modern  Scots  Songs,  1769,  p.  244;  ed. 
1776,  i,  83. 

1  As  Bothwell  was  walking  in  the  lowlands  alane, 

Hey  down  and  a  down 
He  met  six  ladies  sae  gallant  and  fine. 

Hey  down  and  a  down 

2  He  cast  his  lot  amang  them  a’, 

And  on  the  youngest  his  lot  did  fa. 

3  He ’s  brought  her  frae  her  mother’s  bower, 
Unto  his  strongest  castle  and  tower. 

4  But  ay  she  cried  and  made  great  moan, 

And  ay  the  tear  came  trickling  down. 

5  ‘  Come  up,  come  up,’  said  the  foremost  man, 

‘  I  think  our  bride  comes  slowly  on.’ 

6  ‘  O  lady,  sits  your  saddle  awry, 

Or  is  your  steed  for  you  owre  high  ?  ’ 

7  ‘  My  saddle  is  not  set  awry, 

Nor  carries  me  my  steed  owre  high  ; 

8  ‘  But  I  am  weary  of  my  life, 

Since  I  maun  be  Lord  Bothwell’s  wife.’ 

9  He ’s  blawn  his  horn  sae  sharp  and  shrill, 

Up  start  the  deer  on  evry  hill. 

* 

10  He ’s  blawn  his  horn  sae  lang  and  loud, 

Up  start  the  deer  in  gude  green-wood. 

11  His  lady  mother  lookit  owre  the  castle  wa, 
And  she  saw  them  riding  ane  and  a’. 

12  She ’s  calld  upon  her  maids  by  seven, 

To  mak  his  bed  baith  saft  and  even. 

13  She ’s  calld  upon  her  cooks  by  nine, 

To  make  their  dinner  fair  and  fine. 


14  When  day  was  gane,  and  night  was  come, 

‘  What  ails  my  love  on  me  tp  frown  ? 

15  ‘  Or  does  the  wind  blow  in  your  glove  ? 

Or  runs  your  mind  on  another  love  ?  ’ 

16  1  Nor  blows  the  wind  within  my  glove, 

Nor  runs  my  mind  on  another  love  ; 

17  ‘  But  I  nor  maid  nor  maiden  am, 

For  I’m  wi  bairn  to  another  man.’ 

18  ‘  I  thought  I ’d  a  maiden  sae  meek  and  sae 

mild, 

But  I ’ve  nought  but  a  woman  wi  child.’ 

19  His  mother ’s  taen  her  up  to  a  tower, 

And  lockit  her  in  her  secret  bower. 

20  ‘  Now,  doughter  mine,  come  tell  to  me, 

Wha’s  bairn  this  is  that  you  are  wi.’ 

21  ‘  0  mother  dear,  I  canna  learn 
Wha  is  the  faither  of  my  bairn. 

22  ‘  But  as  I  walkd  in  the  lowlands  my  lane, 

•I  met  a  gentleman  gallant  and  fine. 

23  ‘  He  keepit  me  there  sae  late  and  sae  lang, 
Frae  the  evning  late  till  the  morning  dawn. 

24  ‘  And  a’  that  he  gied  me  to  my  propine 

Was  a  pair  of  green  gloves  and  a  gay  gold 
ring ; 

25  ‘  Three  lauchters  of  his  yellow  hair, 

In  case  that  we  shoud  meet  nae  mail*.’ 

26  His  lady  mother  went  down  the  stair : 

27  ‘  Now  son,  now  son,  come  tell  to  me, 

Where ’s  the  green  gloves  I  gave  to  thee  ?  ’ 


5.  GIL  BRENTON 


80 

28  ‘  I  gied  to  a. lady  sae  fair  and  so  fine 
The  green  gloves  and  a  gay  gold  ring. 

29  ‘  But  I  wad  gie  my  castles  and  towers, 
I  had  that  lady  within  my  bowers. 

30  ‘  But  I  wad  gie  my  very  life, 

I  had  that  lady  to  be  my  wife.’ 


H 

Kinloch  MSS,  v,  335,  in  the  handwriting  of  Dr  John  Hill 
Burton. 

1  We  were  seven  sisters  in  a  bower, 

Adown  adown,  and  adown  and  adown 
The  flower  of  a’  fair  Scotland  ower. 

Adown  adown,  and  adown  and  adown 

2  We  were  sisters,,  sisters  seven, 

The  fairest  women  under  heaven. 

3  There  fell  a  dispute  us  amang, 

Wha  would  to  the  greenwood  gang. 

4  They  kiest  the  kevels  them  amang, 

0  wha  would  to  the  greenwood  gar.g. 

5  The  kevels  they  gied  thro  the  ha, 

And  on  the  youngest  it  did  fa. 

6  The  kevel  fell  into  her  hand, 

To  greenwood  she  was  forced  to  gang. 


31  ‘Now  keep,  now  keep  your  castles  and  towers, 
You  have  that  lady  within  your  bowers. 

32  ‘  Now  keep,  now  keep  your  very  life, 

You  have  that  lady  to  be  your  wife.’ 

33  ‘  0  row  my  lady  in  sattin  and  silk, 

And  wash  my  son  in  the  morning  milk.’ 


7  She  liedna  pued  a  flower  but  ane, 
When  by  there  came  an  earl’s  son. 

8  ‘  And  was  he  well  or  was  he  wae, 

He  keepet  me  that  summer’s  day.’ 

9  And  was  he  weel  or  was  he  weight, 

He  keepet  her  that  summer’s  night. 

10  And  he  gave  her  a  gay  goud  ring 
His  mother  got  at  her  wedding. 

*  *  *  * 

11  ‘  Oh  is  yer  stirrup  set  too  high  ? 

Or  is  your  saddle  set  awry  ? 

12  ‘  Oh  is  yer  stirrup  set  too  side  ? 

Or  what ’s  the  reason  ye  canna  ride  ?  ’ 
#  #  *  # 

13  When  all  were  at  the  table  set, 

Then  not  a  bit  could  this  lady  eat. 

14  When  all  made  merry  at  the  feast, 
This  lady  wished  she  were  at  her  rest. 

-Ai.  .AA.  M, 

Tv-  VV  VV  -7v- 


A.  a.  In  the  MS.  two  lines  are  written  contin¬ 
uously,  and  two  of  these  double  lines  numbered 
as  one  stanza. 

191,  231,  692,  712,  perhaps  gate,  gates  in  MS. 
541,  MS.  be  a  nae.  56. 1  casket  in  MS.  ? 

b.  1. 

Chil  Brenton  has  sent  oer  the  faem, 

Chil  Brenton ’s  brought  his  lady  hame. 

B.  Printed  by  Scott  in  four-line  stanzas. 

7,  55,  56,  58,  61,  seem  to  be  the  stanzas  trans¬ 
ferred  from  Herd ,  but  only  the  last  without 
change. 


C.  The  stanzas  are  not  divided  in  Cromek.  Be¬ 
tween  14  and  15  the  following  nineteen 
couplets  have  been  omitted. 

First  blew  the  sweet,  the  simmer  wind, 

Then  autumn  wi  her  breath  sae  kind, 

Before  that  eer  the  guid  knight  came 
The  tokens  of  his  luve  to  claim. 

Then  fell  the  brown  an  yellow  leaf 
Afore  the  knight  o  luve  shawed  prief  ; 

Three  morns  the  winter’s  rime  did  fa. 

When  loud  at  our  yett  my  luve  did  ca. 

‘Ye  hae  daughters,  ye  liae  seven, 

Ye  hae  the  fairest  under  heaven. 


6.  WILLIE’S  LADY 


81 


I  am  the  lord  o  lands  wide, 

Ane  o  them  maun  be  my  bride. 

I  am  lord  of  a  baronie, 

Ane  o  them  maun  lie  wi  me. 

0  cherry  lips  are  sweet  to  pree, 

A  rosie  cheek ’s  meet  for  the  ee  ; 

Lang  brown  locks  a  heart  can  bind, 

Bonny  black  een  in  luve  are  kind  ; 

Sma  white  arms  for  clasping ’s  meet, 

Whan  laid  atween  the  bridal-sheets  ; 

A  kindlie  heart  is  best  of  a’, 

An  debonnairest  in  the  ha. 

Ane  by  ane  tliae  things  are  sweet, 

Ane  by  ane  in  luve  they  ’re  meet ; 

But  when  they  a’  in  ae  maid  bide, 

She  is  fittest  for  a  bride. 

Sae  be  it  weel  or  be  it  wae, 

The  youngest  maun  be  my  ladie  ; 

Sae  be  it  gude,  sae  be  it  meet, 

She  maun  warm  my  bridal-sheet. 

Little  kend  he,  whan  aff  he  rode, 

I  was  his  tokend  luve  in  the  wood  ; 

Or  when  he  gied  me  the  wedding-token, 

He  was  sealing  the  vows  he  thought  were  broken. 
First  came  a  page  on  a  milk-white  steed, 

Wi  golden  trappings  on  his  head : 

A’  gowden  was  the  saddle  lap, 

And  gowden  was  the  page’s  cap. 

15-21  have  been  allowed  to  stand  principally 
on  account  of  18. 


There  is  small  risk  in  pronouncing  24,  25,  42, 
43,  80,  81  spurious ,  and  Cunningham  sur¬ 
passes  his  usual  maivkishness  in  83. 

E  is  written  in  four-line  stanzas. 

19.  mother,  in  the  margin. 

20.  lady,  in  the  margin. 

F.  a.  72.  MS.  Till  [Still?]. 

V  and  8,  17  and  181,  201  and  21,  231  and  24, 
32  and  332,  50x  and  51,  are  respectively 
written  as  a  stanza  in  the  MS. 

121,  411.  Motherwell  conjectures 

Would  I  wait,  or  would  I  away. 

131,  421.  Motherwell  conjectures 
Would  I  away,  or  would  I  wait. 

142,  432.  MS.  green  sleeves  :  but  see  511,  and 
also  E  221,  G  242,  282. 

292,  above  you  do  not  know ’t  is  written  know 
not  who  till,  apparently  a  conjecture  of  Moth¬ 
erwell's. 

302,  sometimes  recited 

Till  owre  the  bed  this  lady  he  flang. 

531.  MS.  abroad. 

b.  1.  Seven  ladies  livd  in  a  bower, 

Hey  down  and  ho  down 
And  aye  the  youngest  was  the  flower. 

Hey  down  and  ho  down 

G.  The  stanzas  are  not  divided  in  Herd. 

H.  4  is  crossed  through  in  the  MS.,  hit  no  reason 

given. 


6 


WILLIE’S  LADY 


a.  *  Willie’s  Lady,’  Fraser- Tytler  MS. 


b.  *  Sweet  Willy,’  Jamieson-Brown  MS.,  No  16,  fob 
33. 


a,  ‘  Willie’s  Lady,’  was  No  1  in  the  manu¬ 
script  of  fifteen  ballads  furnished  William  Tyt- 
ler  by  Mrs  Brown  in  1783,  and  having  been 
written  down  a  little  later  than  b  may  be  re¬ 
garded  as  a  revised  copy.  This  manuscript, 
as  remarked  under  No  5,  is  not  now  in  the 

li 


possession  of  the  Fraser-Tytler  family,  having 
often  been  most  liberally  lent,  and,  probably, 
at  last  not  returned.  But  a  transcript  had 
been  made  by  the.  grandfather  of  the  present 
family  of  two  of  the  pieces  contained  in  it, 
and  ‘  Willie’s  Lady  ’  is  one  of  these  two. 


82 


6.  WILLIE’S  LADY 


Lewis  had  aceess  to  William  Tytler’s  copy, 
and,  having  regulated  the  rhymes,  filled  out 
a  gap,  dropped  the  passage  about  the  girdle, 
and  made  other  changes  to  his  taste,  printed 
the  ballad  in  1801  as  No  56  of  his  Tales  of 
Wonder.  The  next  j^ear  Scott  gave  the  44  an¬ 
cient  copy,  never  before  published,”  “  in  its 
native  simplicity,  as  taken  from  Mrs  Brown  of 
Faulkland’s  MS.,”  —  William  Tytler’s,  —  in 
Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  n,  27,  but 
not  with  literal  accuracy.  Jamieson,  in  1806, 
gave  4  Sweet  Willy,’  almost  exactly  according 
to  the  text  of  his  Brown  manuscript,  in  an 
appendix  to  the  second  volume  of  his  collec¬ 
tion,  p.  867,  and  at  p.  175  of  the  same  volume, 
a  reconstruction  of  the  ballad  which  might 
have  been  spared. 

b  lacks  altogether  the  passage  which  makes 
proffer  of  the  cup,  a,  stanzas  5-11,  and  substi¬ 
tutes  at  that  place  the  girdle  of  a  21-28.  The 
woodbine  in  a  36,  41,  is  also  wanting,  and  the 
concluding  stanza.  A  deficiency  both  in  mat¬ 
ter  and  rhyme  at  a  82  is  supplied  by  b  25, 
26,  but  not  happily : 

4  An  do  you  to  your  mitlier  then, 

An  bid  her  come  to  your  boy’s  christnen  ; 

4  For  dear ’s  the  hoy  he ’s  been  to  you  : 

Then  notice  well  what  she  shall  do.’ 

Again,  the  transition  in  a,  from  st.  33  to 
st.  34,  is  abrupt  even  for  a  ballad,  and  b  in¬ 
troduces  here  four  stanzas  narrating  the  ex¬ 
ecution  of  the  Billy  Blind’s  injunctions,  and 
ending, 

And  notic’d  well  what  she  did  say, 

whereby  we  are  prepared  for  the  witch’s  ex¬ 
clamations.* 

Danish  versions  of  this  ballad  are  numerous : 
A-I, ‘Hustru  og  Mands  Moder’  [4  Fostermoder,’ 
4  Stifmoder  ’],  Grundtvig,  No  84,  n,  404  ff: 
J-T,  4  Hustru  og  Mands  Moder,’  Kristensen, 
ii,  111  ff,  No  35  :  U-X,  4  Barselkvinden,’  Kris- 

*  The  Jamieson-Brown  copy  contains  seventy-eight 
verses ;  Scott’s  and  the  Tytler  copy,  eighty-eight.  Dr  An¬ 
derson’s,  Nichols’s  Illustrations,  vn,  176,  counts  seventy-six. 
instead  of  eighty-eight ;  but,  judging  by  the  description  which 
Anderson  has  given  of  the  Alexander-Eraser-Tytler-Brown 


tensen,  i,  201  ff,  No  74 :  Y,  4  Hustru  og  Sleg- 
fred,’  Grundtvig,  No  85,  n,  448  ff :  in  all 
twenty-five,  but  many  of  Kristensen’s  copies 
are  fragments.  Grundtvig’s  84  A,  B,  and  85  a 
are  from  manuscripts  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
84  F-I  and  several  repetitions  of  85  are  of  the 
seventeenth.  Grundtvig’s  84  C,  D,  E,  and  all 
Kristensen’s  versions,  are  from  recent  oral  tra¬ 
dition.  Some  of  these,  though  taken  down 
since  1870,  are  wonderfully  well  preserved. 

The  Danish  ballads  divide  into  two  classes, 
principally  distinguished  by  their  employing 
or  not  employing  of  the  artifice  of  wax  chil¬ 
dren.  (There  is  but  one  of  these  in  N,  R, 
Kristensen’s  E,  I,  n,  116, 122,  and  in  the  oldest 
Swedish  ballad,  as  in  the  Scottish :  but  chil¬ 
dren  in  Scandinavian  ballads  are  mostly  born 
in  pairs.)  Of  the  former  class,  to  which  our 
only  known  copy  belongs,  are  F-I,  N-T,  X 
(Grundtvig,  84  F-I,  Kristensen,  n,  No  35,  E- 
L,  I,  No  74  D).  N  and  I  furnish,  perhaps,  the 
most  consistent  story,  'which,  in  the  former, 
runs  thus :  Sir  Peter  married  Ellen  (else¬ 
where  Mettelille,  Kirstin,  Tidelil,  Ingerlil), 
and  gave  her  in  charge  to  his  mother,  a  for¬ 
midable  witch,  and,  as  appears  from  F,  vio¬ 
lently  opposed  to  the  match.  The  first  night 
of  her  marriage  Ellen  conceived  twins.  She 
wrapped  up  her  head  in  her  cloak  and  paid  a 
visit  to  her  mother-in-law,  to  ask  how  long 
women  go  with  child.  The  answer  was, 

4  Forty  weeks  went  Mary  with  Christ, 

And  so  each  Danish  woman  must. 

4  Forty  weeks  I  went  with  mine, 

But  eight  years  shalt  thou  go  with  thine.’ 

The  forty  weeks  had  passed,  and  Ellen  be¬ 
gan  to  long  for  relief.  Sir  Peter  besofight  aid 
of  his  sister  Ingerlin.  If  I  help  your  young 
bride,  she  said,  I  must  be  traitor  to  my  mother. 
Sir  Peter  insisted,  and  Ingerlin  moulded  a  fine 
child  of  wax,f  wrapped  it  in  linen,  and  exhib¬ 
ited  it  to  her  mother,  who,  supposing  that  her 

MS.,  at  p.  179,  he  is  not  exact.  Still,  so  large  a  discrepancy 
is  hard  to  explain. 

t  The  sister  does  this  in  F-I  and  S  :  in  O,  P,  the  husband 
“  has  ”  it  done. 


0.  WILLIE’S  LADY 


83 


arts  had  been  baffled,  burst  out  into  exclama¬ 
tions  of  astonishment.  She  had  thought  she 
could  twist  a  rope  out  of  flying  sand,  lay  sun 
and  moon  flat  on  the  earth  with  a  single  word, 
turn  the  whole  world  round  about !  She  had 
thought  all  the  house  was  spell-bound,  except 
the  spot  where  the  young  wife’s  chest  stood, 
the  chest  of  red  rowan,  which  nothing  can  be¬ 
witch  !  The  chest  w'as  instantly  taken  away, 
and  Ellen’s  bed  moved  to  the  place  it  had 
occupied ;  and  no  sooner  was  this  done  than 
Ellen  gave  birth  to  two  children. 

In  the  ballads  of  the  other  class,  the  young 
wife,  grown  desperate  after  eight  years  of  suf¬ 
fering,  asks  to  be  taken  back  to  her  maiden 
home.  Her  husband’s  mother  raises  objec¬ 
tions  :  the  horses  are  in  the  meadow,  the 
coachman  is  in  bed.  Then,  she  says,  I  will  go 
on  my  bare  feet..  The  moment  her  husband 
learns  her  wish,  the  carriage  is  at  the  door,  but 
by  the  arts  of  the  mother  it  goes  to  pieces  on 
the  way,  and  the  journey  has  to  be  finished  on 
horseback.  The  joy  of  her  parents  at  seeing 
their  daughter  approaching  was  quenched  on 
a  nearer  view :  she  looked  more  dead  than 
quick.  She  called  her  family  about  her  and 
distributed  her  effects.  A  great  wail  went  up 
in  the  house  when  two  sons  were  cut  from  the 
mother’s  side.  (C,  J,  K,  L,  W :  Grundtvig, 
84  C;  Kristensen,  II,  No  35  A,  B,  C ;  I,  No 
74  C.) 

The  first  son  stood  up  and  brushed  his  hair : 

‘  Most  surely  am  I  in  my  ninth  year.’ 

The  second  stood  up  both  fair  and  red : 

‘  Most  sure  we  ’ll  avenge  our  dear  mother  dead.’  * 

Several  of  the  most  important  ballads  of 
the  first  class  have  taken  up  a  part  of  the  story 
of  those  of  the  second  class,  to  the  detriment 
of  consistency.  F,  G,  H,  O,  P  (Grundtvig,  84 
F,  G,  H,  Kristensen,  n,  No  35  F,  G),  make 
the  wife  quit  her  husband’s  house  for  her  fa¬ 
ther’s,  not  only  without  reason,  but  ^against 
reason.  If  the  woman  is  to  die,  it. N  natural 
enough  that  she  should  wish  to  -die  with  the 
friends  of  her  early  days,  and  away  from  her 

*  Grundtvig,  84  D,  E;  Kristensen,  i,  No  74  A,  B,  C  ; 
ii,  No  35  A,  B,  C. 


uncongenial  mother-in-law ;  but  there  is  no 
kind  of  occasion  for  transferrhig  the  scene  of 
the  trick  with  the  wax  children  to  her  father’s 
house ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  altogether 
strange  that  her  husband’s  mother  and  the 
rowan-tree  chest  (which  sometimes  appears 
to  be  the  property  of  the  mother,  sometimes 
that  of  the  wife)  should  go  with  her. 

Y,  ‘  Hustru  og  Slegfred,’  Grundtvig,  85, 
agrees  with  the  second  class  up  to  the  point 
when  the  wife  is  put  to  bed  at  her  mother’s 
house,  but  with  the  important  variation  that 
the  spell  is  the  work  of  a  former  mistress  of 
the  husband  ;  instead  of  his  mother,  as  in  most 
of  the  ballads,  or  of  the  wife’s  foster-mother, 
as  in  C,  D,  J,  K,  M  (Grundtvig,  84  C,  D,  Kris¬ 
tensen,  II,  No  35  A,  B,  D),  or  of  the  wife’s 
step-mother  as  in  A  only.  The  conclusion  of 
‘  Hustru  og  Slegfred  ’  is  rather  flat.  The 
wife,  as  she  lies  in  bed,  bids  all  her  household 
hold  up  their  hands  and  pray  for  her  relief, 
which  occurs  on  the  same  day.  The  news  is 
sent  to  her  husband,  who  rejoins  his  wife,  is 
shown  his  children,  praises  God,  and  burns  his 
mistress.  Burning  is  also  the  fate  of  the 
mother-in-law  in  B,  I,  O,  P,  whereas  in  F  she 
dies  of  chagrin,  and  in  G  bursts  into  a  hun¬ 
dred  flinders  (flentsteene). 

This  ballad,  in  the  mixed  form  of  O,  P 
(Kristensen,  n,  35  F,  G),  has  been  resolved 
into  a  tale  in  Denmark,  a  few  lines  of  verse 
being  retained.  Recourse  is  had  by  the  spell¬ 
bound  wife  to  a  cunning  woman  in  the  vil¬ 
lage,  who  informs  her  that  in  her  house  there 
is  a  place  in  which  a  rowan-tree  chest  has 
stood,  and  that  she  can  get  relief  there.  The 
cunning  woman  subsequently  pointing  out  the 
exact  spot,  two  boys  are  born,  who  are  seven 
years  old,  and  can  both  walk  and  talk.  Word 
is  sent  the  witch  that  her  son’s  wife  has  been 
delivered  of  two  sons,  and  that  she  herself 
shall  be  burned  the  day  following.  The  witch 
says,  “  I  have  been  able  to  twine  a  string  out 
of  running  water.  If  I  have  not  succeeded 
in  bewitching  the  woman,  she  must  have  found 
the  place  where  the  damned  rowan  chest 
stood.”  (Grundtvig,  m,  858,  No  84  b.) 

Three  Swedish  versions  of  the  ballad  have 
been  printed.  A,  B,  from  tradition  of  this 


84 


0.  WILLIE’S  LADY 


century,  are  given  by  Arwidsson,  n,  252  ff, 

‘  Liten  Kerstins  Fortrollning,’  No  134.  These 
resemble  the  Danish  ballads  of  the  second 
class  closely.  Liten  Kerstin  goes  to  her  moth¬ 
er’s  house,  gives  birth  to  two  children,  and 
dies.  In  A  the  children  are  a  son  and  daughter. 
The  son  stands  up,  combs  his  hair,  and  says, 
“  I  am  forty  weeks  on  in  my  ninth  year.” 
He  can  run  errands  in  the  village,  and  the 
daughter  sew  red  silk.  In  B  both  children 
are  boys.  One  combs  his  hair,  and  says,  “  Our 
grandmother  shall  be  put  on  two  wheels.” 
The  other  draws  his  sword,  and  says,  “  Our 
mother  is  dead,  our  grandmother  to  blame. 
I  hope  our  mother  is  with  God.  Our  grand¬ 
mother  shall  be  laid  on  seven  wheels.”  The 
other  copy,  C,  mentioned  by  Grundtvig  as 
being  in  Cavallius  and  Stephens’  manuscript 
collection,  has  been  printed  in  the  Svenska 
Fornminnesforeningens  Tidskrift,  vol.  ii,  p. 
72  ff,  1873-74.  It  dates  from  the  close  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  and  resembles  the  mixed 
ballads  of  the  Danish  first  class,  combining 
the  flitting  to  the  father’s  house  with  the  ar¬ 
tifice  of  the  wax  children.  The  conclusion  of 
this  ballad  has  suffered  greatly.  After  the 
two  sons  are  born,  we  are  told  that  Kirstin, 
before  unmentioned,  goes  to  the  chest  and 
makes  a  wax  child.  If  the  chest  were  moved, 
Elin  would  be  free  of  her  child.  And  then  the 
boy  stands  up  and  brushes  his  hair,  and  says 
he  has  come  to  his  eighth  year. 

Three  stanzas  and  some  of  the  incidents  of 
a  Norwegian  version  of  this  ballad  have  been 
communicated  to  Grundtvig,  ill,  858  f,  No 
84  c,  by  Professor  Sophus  Bugge.  The  only 
place  which  was  unaffected  by  a  spell  was 
where  SignelftFs  bride-chest  stood,  and  the 
chest  being  removed,  the  birth  took  place. 
The  witch  was  a  step-mother,  as  in  Danish  A. 

There  are  two  familiar  cases  of  malicious 
arrest  of  childbirth  in  classic  mythology,  — 
those  of  Latona  and  Alcmene.  The  wrath  of 
Juno  was  the  cause  in  both,  and  perhaps  the 
myth  of  Alcmene  is  only  a  repetition  of  an 
older  story,  with  change  of  name.  The  pangs 

*  Eadem  amatoris  sui  uxorera,  quod  in  earn  dicacule  pro- 
brum  dixerat,  jam  in  sarcina  prsegnationis,  obsffipto  utero 
et  repigrato  fetu,  perpetua  prsegnatione  damnavit,_et,  ut 


of  Latona  were  prolonged  through  nine  days 
and  nights,  at  the  end  of  which  time  Ilithyia 
came  to  her  relief,  induced  by  a  bribe.  (Hymn 
to  the  Delian  Apollo,  91  ff.)  Homer,  II.  xix, 
119,  says  only  that  Hera  stopped  the  delivery 
of  Alcmene  and  kept  back  Ilithyia.  Anto¬ 
ninus  Liberalis,  in  the  second  century  of  our 
era,  in  one  of  his  abstracts  from  the  Meta¬ 
morphoses  of  Nicander,  a  poem  of  the  second 
century  B.  C.,  or  earlier,  has  this  account: 
that  when  Alcmene  was  going  with  Hercules, 
the  Fates  and  Ilithyia,  to  please  Juno,  kept 
her  in  her  pains  by  sitting  down  and  folding 
their  hands  ;  and  that  Galintliias,  a  playmate 
and  companion  of  Alcmene,  fearing  that  the 
suffering  would  drive  her  mad,  ran  out  and 
announced  the  birth  of  a  boy,  upon  which  the 
Fates  were  seized  with  such  consternation  that 
they  let  go  their  hands,  and  Hercules  imme¬ 
diately  came  into  the  world.  (Antoninus  Lib., 
Metam.  c.  xxix.)  Ovid,  Metamorphoses,  ix, 
281-315,  is  more  circumstantial.  After  seven 
days  and  nights  of  torture,  Lucina  came,  but, 
being  bribed  by  Juno,  instead  of  giving  the  aid 
for  which  she  was  invoked,  sat  down  on  the  al¬ 
tar  before  Alcmene’s  door5  with  the'  right  knee 
crossed  over  the  left,  and  fingers  interlocked, 
mumbling  charms  which  checked  the  processes 
of  birth.  Galanthis,  a  servant  girl  media  de 
plebe,  was  shrewd  enough  to  suspect  that  Juno 
had  some  part  in  this  mischief  ;  and  besides,  as 
she  went  in  and  out  of  the  house,  she  always 
saw  Lucina  sitting  on  the  altar,  with  her  hands 
clasped  over  her  knees.  At  last,  by  a  happy 
thought,  she  called  out,  “  Whoever  you  are, 
wish  my  mistress  joy ;  she  is  lighter,  and  has 
her  wish.”  Lucina  jumped  up  and  unclasped 
her  hands,  and  the  birth  followed  instantly. 
Pausanias,  ix,  11,  tells  a  similar  but  briefer 
story,  in  which  Historis,  daughter  of  Tiresias, 
takes  the  place  of  Galanthis.  See,  for  the 
whole  matter,  ‘  Ilithyia  oder  die  Hexe,’  in 
C.  A.  Bottiger’s  Ivleine  Schriften,  I,  76  ff. 

Apuleius,  in  his  Metamorphoses,  mentions 
a  case  of  suspended  childbirth,  which,  curiously 
enough,  had  lasted  eight  years,*  as  in  the  Dan- 

cuncti  numerant,  jam  octo  annorum  onere  misella  ilia  velut 
elephantum  paritura  distenditur.  i,  9. 


6.  WILLIE’S  LADY 


85 


ish  and  Swedish  ballads.  The  witch  is  a  mis¬ 
tress  of  her  victim’s  husband,  as  in  Grundtvig, 
85,  and  as  in  a  story  cited  by  Scott  from  Hey- 
wood's  ‘  Hierarchy  of  the  Blessed  Angels,"  p. 
474.  “  There  is  a  curious  tale  about  a  Count  of 
Westeravia  [Vestravia,  in  diocesi  Argentora- 
tensi],  whom  a  deserted  concubine  bewitched 
upon  his  marriage,  so  as  to  preclude  all  hopes 
of  his  becoming  a  father.  The  spell  continued 
to  operate  for  three  years,  till  one  day,  the 
count  happening  to  meet  with  his  former  mis¬ 
tress,  she  maliciously  asked  him  about  the  in¬ 
crease  of  his  family.  The  count,  conceiving 
some  suspicion  from  her  manner,  craftily  an¬ 
swered  that  God  had  blessed  him  with  three 
fine  children  ;  on  which  she  exclaimed,  like 
Willie’s  mother  in  the  ballad,  ‘  Mav  Heaven 
confound  the  old  hag  by  whose  counsel  I 
threw  an  enchanted  pitcher  into  the  draw-well 
of  your  palace  !  ’  The  spell  being  found  and 
destroyed,  the  count  became  the  father  of  a 
numerous  family.” 

A  story  like  that  of  the  ballad  is  told  as  a 
fact  that  took  place  in  Arran  within  this  cent¬ 
ury.  A  young  man  forsook  his  sweetheart 
and  married  another  girl.  When  the  wife’s 
time  came,  she  suffered  excessively.  A  pack¬ 
man  who  was  passing  suspected  the  cause, 
went  straight  to  the  old  love,  and  told  her 
that  a  fine  child  was  born  ;  when  up  she 
sprang,  and  pulled  out  a  large  nail  from  the 
beam  of  the  roof,  calling  out  to  her  mother, 
“  Muckle  good  your  craft  has  done  I  ”  The 
wife  was  forthwith  delivered.  (Napier,  in 
The  Folklore  Record,  n,  117.) 

In  the  Sicilian  tales,  collected  by  Laura 
Gonzenbach,  Nos  12  and  15,  we  have  the  spell 
of  folded  hands  placed  between  the  knees  to 
prevent  birth,  and  in  No  54  ha#nds  raised  to 
the  head.*  In  all  these  examples  the  spell  is 
finally  broken  by  telling  the  witch  a  piece  of 
false  news,  which  causes  her  to  forget  herself 

*  We  may  suppose  with  closed  fingers,  or  clasping  the 
head,  though  this  is  not  said.  Antique  vases  depict  one  or 
two  Ilithyias  as  standing  by.with  hands  elevated  and  open, 


and  take  away  her  hands.  (Sicilianische  Mar- 
chen  aus  dem  Volksmund  gesammelt,  Leip¬ 
zig,  1870.) 

We  find  in  a  Roumanian  tale,  contributed 
to  Das  Ausland  for  1857,  p.  1029,  by  F.  Obert, 
and  epitomized  by  Grundtvig,  ill,  859,  No 
84  d,  a  wife  condemned  by  her  offended  hus¬ 
band  to  go  with  child  till  he  lays  his  hand 
upon  her.  It  is  twenty  years  before  she  ob¬ 
tains  grace,  and  the  son  whom  she  then  bears 
immediately  slays  his  father.  A  Wallachian 
form  of  this  story  (Walachische  Marchen  von 
Arthur  u.  Albert  Schott,  No  28)  omits  the  re¬ 
venge  by  the  new-born  child,  and  ends  hap- 

pity* 

With  respect  to  the  knots  in  st.  34,  it  is  to 
be  observed  that  the  tying  of  knots  (as  also 
the  fastening  of  locks),  either  during  the  mar¬ 
riage  ceremony  or  at  the  approach  of  partu¬ 
rition  was,  and  is  still,  believed  to  be  effectual 
for  preventing  conception  or  childbirth.  The 
minister  of  Logierait,  Perthshire,  testifies, 
about  the  year  1793,  that  immediately  be¬ 
fore  the  celebration  of  a  marriage  it  is  the 
custom  to  loosen  carefully  every  knot  about 
bride  and  bridegroom,  —  garters,  shoe-strings, 
etc.  The  knots  are  tied  again  before  they 
leave  the  church.  (Statistical  Account  of  Scot¬ 
land,  Y,  83.)  So  among  the  Laps  and  Nor¬ 
wegians,  when  a  child  is  to  be  born,  all  the 
knots  in  the  woman’s  clothes,  or  even  all  the 
knots  in  the  house,  must  be  untied,  because 
of  their  impeding  delivery.  (Liebrecht,  Zur 
Volkskunde,  p.  322,  who  also  cites  the  Statis¬ 
tical  Account  of  Scotland.) 

Willie’s  Lady  is  translated  by  Schubart,  p. 
74,  Talvj,  p.  555,  and  by  Gerhard,  p.  139. 
Grundtvig,  84  H  (=  Syv,  90,  Danske  Viser, 
43),  is  translated  by  Jamieson,  Illustrations  of 
Northern  Antiquities,  p.  344,  and  by  Prior, 
No  89. 

during  the  birth  of  Athene  from  the  head  of  Zeus.  Welcker, 
Kleine  Schriften,  iii,  191,  note  12. 


86 


6.  WILLIE’S  LADY 


A 

a.  A  copy,  by  Miss  Mary  Fraser  Tytler,  of  a  transcript 
made  by  her  grandfather  from  William  Tytler’s  manuscript, 
b.  Jamieson-Brown  MS.,  No  15,  fol.  33. 

1  Willie  has  taen  him  oer  the  fame, 

He ’s  woo’d  a  wife  and  brought  her  hame. 

2  He ’s  woo’d  her  for  her  yellow  hair, 

But  his  mother  wrought  her  mickle  care. 

3  And  mickle  dolour  gard  her  dree, 

For  lighter  she  can  never  be. 

t 

4  But  in  her  bower  she  sits  wi  pain, 

And  Willie  mourns  oer  her  in  vain. 

5  And  to  his  mother  he  has  gone, 

That  vile  rank  witch  of  vilest  kind. 

6  He  says  :  ‘  My  ladie  has  a  cup, 

Wi  gowd  and  silver  set  about. 

7  ‘  This  goodlie  gift  shall  be  your  ain, 

And  let  her  be  lighter  o  her  young  bairn.’ 

8  ‘  Of  her  young  bairn  she  ’ll  neer  be  lighter, 

Nor  in  her  bower  to  shine  the  brighter. 

9  ‘  But  she  shall  die  and  turn  to  clay, 

And  you  shall  wed  another  may.’ 

10  ‘  Another  may  I  ’ll  never  wed, 

Another  may  I  ’ll  neer  bring  home.’ 

11  But  sighing  says  that  weary  wight, 

‘  I  wish  my  life  were  at  an  end.’ 

12  ‘Ye  doe  [ye]  unto  your  mother  again, 

That  vile  rank  witch  of  vilest  kind. 

13  ‘  And  say  your  ladie  has  a  steed, 

The  like  o ’m ’s  no  in  the  lands  of  Leed. 

14  ‘For  he  [i]s  golden  shod  before, 

And  he  [i]s  golden  shod  behind. 

15  ‘  And  at  ilka  tet  of  that  horse’s  main, 

There ’s  a  golden  chess  and  a  bell  ringing. 

16  ‘  This  goodlie  gift  shall  be  your  ain, 

And  let  me  be  lighter  of  my  young  bairn.’ 


17  ‘  0  h^r  young  bairn  she  ’ll  neer  he  lighter, 
Nor  in  her  bower  to  shine  the  brighter. 

18  ‘  But  she  shall  die  and  turn  to  clay, 

And  ye  shall  wed  another  may.’ 

19  ‘  Another  may  I  [’ll]  never  wed, 

Another  may  I  [’ll]  neer  bring  hame.’ 

20  But  sighing  said  that  weary  wight, 

‘  I  wish  my  life  were  at  an  end.’ 

21  ‘  Ye  doe  [ye]  unto  your  mother  again, 

That  vile  rank  witch  of  vilest  kind. 

22  ‘  And  say  your  ladie  has  a  girdle, 

It ’s  red  gowd  unto  the  middle. 

23  ‘  And  ay  at  every  silver  hem, 

Hangs  fifty  silver  hells  and  ten. 

24  ‘  That  goodlie  gift  has  be  her  ain, 

And  let  me  be  lighter  of  my  young  bairn.’ 

25  ‘  O  her  young  bairn  she ’s  neer  he  lighter, 
Nor  in  her  bower  to  shine  the  brighter. 

26  ‘  But  she  shall  die  and  turn  to  clay, 

And  you  shall  wed  another  may.’ 

27  ‘  Another  may  I  ’ll  never  wed, 

Another  may  I  ’ll  neer  bring  hame.’ 

28  But  sighing  says  that  weary  wight, 

‘  I  wish  my  life  were  at  an  end.’ 

29  Then  out  and  spake  the  Belly  Blind  ; 

He  spake  aye  in  good  time. 

30  ‘Ye  doe  ye  to  the  market  place, 

And  there  ye  buy  a  loaf  o  wax. 

31  ‘Ye  shape  it  bairn  and  bairnly  like, 

And  in  twa  glassen  een  ye  pit ; 

32  ‘  And  bid  her  come  to  your  boy’s  christening 
Then  notice  weel  what  she  shall  do. 

33  ‘  And  do  you  stand  a  little  fore  bye, 

And  listen  weel  what  she  shall  say.’ 


6.  WILLIE’S  LADY 


87 


34  ‘  Oh  wha  has  loosed  the  nine  witch  knots 
That  was  amo  that  ladie’s  locks  ? 

35  ‘  And  wha  has  taen  out  the  kaims  of  care 
That  hangs  amo  that  ladie’s  hair? 

36  ‘  And  wha ’s  taen  down  the  hush  o  woodbine 
That  hang  atween  her  bower  and  mine  ? 

37  ‘  And  wha  has  killd  the  master  kid 
That  ran  beneath  that  ladie’s  bed  ? 

38  ‘  And  wha  has  loosed  her  left-foot  sliee, 

And  lotten  that  ladie  lighter  be  ?  ’ 

39  O  Willie  has  loosed  the  nine  witch  knots 
That  was  amo  that  ladie’s  locks. 


40  And  Willie ’s  taen  out  the  kaims  o  care 
That  hang  amo  that  ladie’s  hair. 

41  And  Willie  ’s  taen  down  the  bush  o  woodbine 
That  hang  atween  her  bower  and  thine. 

42  And  Willie  has  killed  the  master  kid 
That  ran  beneath  that  ladie’s  bed. 

43  And  Willie  has  loosed  her  left-foot  shee, 

And  letten  his  ladie  lighter  be. 

44  And  now  he  ’s  gotten  a  bonny  young  son, 
And  mickle  grace  he  him  upon. 


a.  The  stanzas  are  not  regularly  divided  in  the 

MS.,  nor  were  they  so  divided  by  Scott. 

412.  hung  (?)  beneath  :  but  see  362. 

Scott's  principal  variations  are  : 

121.  Yet  gae  ye. 

141.  For  he  is  silver  shod. 

15.  At  every  tuft  of  that  horse  main 

There ’s  a  golden  chess  and  a  bell  to  ring. 

211.  Yet  gae  ye.  2.  o  rankest  kind. 

222.  It ’s  a’  red  gowd  to. 

241.  This  gudely  gift  sail  be. 

261.  For  she. 

282.  my  days. 

30  h  Yet  gae  ye.  2.  there  do  buy. 

311.  Do  shape.  2.  you  ’ll  put. 

321.  And  bid  her  your  boy’s  christening  to. 

331.  a  little  away.  2.  To  notice  weel  what  she 
may  saye. 

35 2.  That  were  amang. 

382.  And  let. 

391.  Syne  Willie. 

402.  That  were  into. 

411,  421,  431.  And  he. 

412.  Hung  atween  her  bour  and  the  witch  car¬ 
line. 

442.  a  bonny  son. 

b.  Divided  in  Jamieson's  MS.  into  stanzas  of  four 

verses,  two  verses  being  written  in  one  line: 
but  Jamieson's  8  =  a  14-16. 

I1.  Sweet  Willy ’s  taen. 


5-11,  wanting.  Instead  of  the  cup,  the  girdle 
occurs  here :  =  a  21-28. 

121.  He  did  him  till.  2.  wilest  kin. 

131.  An  said,  My  lady. 

141,2*  he  is. 

162.  An  lat  her  be  lighter  o  her  young  bairn. 

181.  go  to  clay. 

a  211  =  b  51.  Now  to  his  mither  he  has  gane. 
2.  kin. 

a  221  =  b  61.  He  say[s]  my  lady.  2.  It ’s  a’ 
red. 

a231  =  b7l.  at  ilka.  2.  Hings. 

a  241  =  b  81.  gift  sail  be  your  ain.  2.  lat  her 
.  .  .  o  her. 

a  29  =  b  22.  Then  out  it  spake  the  belly  blin  ; 

She  spake  ay  in  a  good  time, 
a  32  =  b  25,  26. 

An  do  you  to  your  mither  then,  An  bid  her 
come  to  your  boy’s  christnen  ; 

For  dear ’s  the  boy  he ’s  been  to  you  :  Then  no¬ 
tice  well  what  she  shall  do. 

Between  a  33  and  a  34  occurs  in  b  (28-31) : 

He  did  him*  to  the  market  place,  An  there  he 
bought  a  loaf  o  wax. 

He  shap’d  it  bairn  and  bairnly  like,  An  in’t  twa 
glazen  een  he  pat. 

He  did  him  till  his  mither  then,  An  bade  him 
(sic)  to  his  boy’s  christnen. 

An  he  did  stan  a  little  forebye,  An  notic’d  well 
what  she  did  say. 


88 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


a  352  =  b  332.  hang  amo. 

36.  wanting  in  b. 

37 2.  aneath. 

392  —  b  362.  hang  amo  his. 

401.  kemb  o  care.  2.  his  lady’s. 
41.  wanting  in  b. 


422  =  b  382.  ran  aneath  his. 

44.  wanting  in  b. 

b  222  makes  the  Billy  Blind  feminine.  This 
is  not  so  in  a,  or  in  any  other  ballad ,  and 
may  be  only  an  error  of  the  transcriber ,  who 
has  not  always  written  carefully. 


7 

EARL  BRAND 


A.  a.  b.  ‘  Earl  Bran,’  Mr  Robert  White’s  papers, 
c.  ‘  The  Brave  Earl  Brand  and  the  Kins  of  England's 
Daughter,’  Bell,  Ancient  Poems,  etc.,  p.  122.  d. 
Fragmentary  verses  remembered  by  Mr  R.  White’s 
sister. 

B.  ‘The  Douglas  Tragedy,’  Scott’s  Minstrelsy,  hi,  246, 
ed.  1803. 


C.  ‘  Lord  Douglas,’  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  502. 

D.  ‘Lady  Margaret,’  Kinloch  MSS,  i,  327. 

E.  ‘  The  Douglas  Tragedy,’  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy, 

p.  180. 

F.  ‘The  Child  of  Ell,’ Percy  MS.,  p.  57;  Hales  and 
Furnivall,  I,  133. 


‘  Earl  Brand,’  first  given  to  tlie  world  by 
Mr  Robert  Bell  in  1857,  has  preserved  most 
of  the  incidents  of  a  very  ancient  story  with  a 
faithfulness  unequalled  by  any  ballad  that  has 
been  recovered  from  English  oral  tradition. 
Before  the  publication  of  4  Earl  Brand,’  A  c, 
our  known  inheritance  in  this  particular  was 
limited  to  the  beautiful  but  very  imperfect 
fragment  called  by  Scott  ‘  The  Douglas  Trag¬ 
edy,’  B ;  half  a  dozen  stanzas  of  another  ver¬ 
sion  of  the  same  in  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy, 
E  ;  so  much  of  Percy’s  ‘  Child  of  Elle  ’  as  was 
genuine,  which,  upon  the  printing  of  his  man¬ 
uscript,  turned  out  to  be  one  fifth,  F  ;  and 
two  versions  of  Erlinton,  A,  C.*  What 
now  can  be  added  is  but  little :  two  tran¬ 
scripts  of  ‘Earl  Brand,’  one  of  which,  A  a, 
has  suffered  less  from  literary  revision  than 
the  only  copy  hitherto  printed,  A  c  ;  a  third 
version  of  ‘  The  Douglas  Tragedy,’  from  Moth¬ 
erwell’s  manuscript,  C  ;  a  fourth  from  Kin- 
loch’s  manuscripts,  D ;  and  another  of  ‘  Er- 

*  ‘  Erlinton/  though  not  existing  in  a  two-line  stanza, 
follows  immediately  after  ‘  Earl  Brand.’  The  copy  of  ‘The 
Douglas  Tragedy’  in  Smith’s  Scottish  Minstrel,  nr,  86,  is 
merely  Scott’s,  with  changes  to  facilitate  singing. 


linton,’  B.  Even  ‘  Earl  Brand  ’  has  lost  a 
circumstance  that  forms  the  turning-point  in 
Scandinavian  ballads,  and  this  capital  defect 
attends  all  our  other  versions,  though  traces 
which  remain  in  ‘  Erlinton  ’  make  it  nearly 
certain  that  our  ballads  originally  agreed  in 
all  important  particulars  with  those  which  are' 
to  this  day  recited  in  the  north  of  Europe. 

The  corresponding  Scandinavian  ballad 
is  ‘  Ribold  and  Guldborg,’  and  it  is  a  jewel 
that  any  clime  might  envy.  Up  to  the  time 
of  Grundtvig’s  edition,  in  Danraarks  gamle 
Folkeviser,  No  82,  though  four  versions  had 
been  printed,  the  only  current  copy  for  a  hun¬ 
dred  and  fifty  years  had  been  Syv’s  No  88, 
based  on  a  broadside  of  the  date  1648,  but 
compounded  from  several  sources ;  and  it  was 
in  this  form  that  the  ballad  became  known 
to  the  English  through  Jamieson’s  translation. 
Grundtvig  has  now  published  twenty-seven 
versions  of  ‘  Ribold  og  Guldborg  ’  (n,  347  ff, 
nineteen;  675  ff,  four;  ill,  849  ff,  four:f 

t  B*,  hi,  853,  a  fragment  of  five  stanzas,  has  been 
dropped  by  Grundtvig  from  No  82,  and  assigned  to  No  249. 
See  D.  g.  F.  iv,  494. 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


89 


of  all  which  only  two  are  fragments),  and  nine 
of  ‘  Hildebrand  og  Hilde,’  No  83,  which  is 
the  same  story  set  in  a  dramatic  frame-work 
(n,  393  ff,  seven  ;  680  f,  one ;  m,  857,  one,  a 
fragment).  Three  more  Danish  versions  of 
‘  Ribold  og  Guldborg  ’  are  furnished  by  Ivris- 
tensen,  Gamle  jydske  Folkeviser,  i,  No  37,  H, 
No  84  A,  B  (C*,  D*,  E*).  To  these  we  may 
add  the  last  half,  sts  15-30,  of  ‘  Den  farlige 
Jomfru,’  Grundtvig,  184  G.  Of  Grundtvig’s 
texts,  82  A  is  of  the  sixteenth  century ;  B-H 
are  of  the  seventeenth ;  the  remainder  and 
Kristensen’s  three  from  recent  tradition.  Six 
versions  of  ‘  Hildebrand  og  Hilde,’  A-F,  are 
of  the  seventeenth  century;  one  is  of  the 
eighteenth,  G ;  and  the  remaining  two  are 
from  oral  tradition  of  our  day. 

The  first  six  of  Grundtvig’s  versions  of  ‘  Ri¬ 
bold  and  Guldborg,’  A-F,  are  all  from  manu¬ 
scripts,  and  all  of  a  pure  traditional  char¬ 
acter,  untampered  with  by  “  collators.”  G  and 
H  are  mixed  texts :  they  have  F  for  their 
basis,  but  have  admitted  stanzas  from  other 
sources.  Most  of  the  versions  from  recitation 
are  wonderful  examples  and  proofs  of  the 
fidelity  with  which  simple  people  “  report  and 
hold  ”  old  tales :  for,  as  the  editor  has  shown, 
verses  which  never  had  been  printed,  but 
which  are  found  in  old  manuscripts,  are  now 
met  with  in  recited  copies  ;  and  these  recited 
copies,  again,  have  verses  that  occur  in  no  Dan¬ 
ish  print  or  manuscript,  but  which  neverthe¬ 
less  are  found  in  Norwegian  and  Swedish  reci¬ 
tations,  and,  what  is  more  striking,  in  Ice¬ 
landic  tradition  of  two  hundred  years’  stand¬ 
ing. 

The  story  in  the  older  Danish  ballads  runs 
thus.  Ribold,  a  king’s  son,  sought  Guldborg’s 
love  in  secret.  He  said  he  would  carry  her 
to  a  land  where  death  and  sorrow  came  not ; 
where  all  the  birds  were  cuckoos,  and  all  the 
grass  was  leeks,  and  all  the  streams  ran  wine. 
Guldborg,  not  indisposed,  asked  how  she 
should  evade  the  watch  kept  over  her  by  all 
her  family  and  by  her  betrothed.  Ribold  dis¬ 
guised  her  in  his  cloak  and  armor,  B,  E,  F, 
and  rode  off,  with  Guldborg  behind  him.  On 
the  heath  they  meet  a  rich  earl  [a  crafty  man, 

C ;  her  betrothed,  V],  who  asks,  Whither  away, 

12 


with  your  stolen  maid?  [little  page,  B,  F.] 
Ribold  replies  that  it  is  his  youngest  sister, 
whom  he  has  taken  from  a  cloister,  A,  E  [sick 
sister,  C  ;  brother,  B,  F  ;  page,  D].  This  shift 
avails  nothing  ;  no  more  does  a  bribe  which 
he  offers  for  keeping  his  secret.  Report  is  at 
once  made  to  her  father  that  Guldborg  has 
eloped  with  Ribold.  Guldborg  perceives  that 
they  are  pursued,  and  is  alarmed.  Ribold  re¬ 
assures  hei%  and  prepares  to  meet  his  foes. 
He  bids  Guldborg  hold  his  horse,  B,  C,  E,  and, 
whatever  may  happen,  not  to  call  him  by 
name:  “  Though  thou  see  me  bleed,  name  me. 
not  to  death  ;  though  thou  see  me  fall,  name 
me  not  at  all !  ”  Ribold  cuts  down  six  or 
seven  of  her  brothers  and  her  father,  besides 
others  of  her  kin ;  the  youngest  brother  only 
is  left,  and  Guldborg  in  an  agony  calls  upon 
Ribold  to  spare  him,  to  carry  tidings  to  her 
mother.  No  sooner  was  his  name  pronounced 
than  Ribold  received  a  mortal  wound.  He 
sheathed  his  sword,  and  said,  Come,  wilt . 
thou  ride  with  me  ?  Wilt  thou  go  home  to 
thy  mother  again,  or  wilt  thou  follow  so  sad 
a  swain  ?  And  she  .answered,  I  will  not 
go  home  to  my  mother  again  ;  I  will  follow 
thee,  my  heart’s  dearest  man.  They  rode 
through  the  wood,  and  not  a  word  came  from 
the  mouth  of  either.  Guldborg  asked,  Why 
art  thou  not  as  glad  as  before  ?  And  Ribold 
answered,  Thy  brother’s  sword  has  been  in 
my  heart.  They  reached  his  house.  He 
called  to  one  to  take  his  horse,  to  another  to 
bring  a  priest,  and  said  his  brother  should 
have  Guldborg.  But  she  would  not  give  her 
faith  to  two  brothers.  Ribold  died  that  night, 
C.  Three  dead  came  from  Ribold’s  bower : 
Ribold  and  his  lief,  and  his  mother,  who  died 
of  grief  !  In  A  Guldborg  slays  herself,  and 
dies  in  her  lover’s  arms.  ' 

‘  Hildebrand  and  Hilde,’  A,  B,  C,  D,  opens 
with  the  heroine  in  a  queen’s  service,  sewing 
her  seam  wildly,  putting  silk  for  gold  and  gold 
for  silk.  The  queen  calls  her  to  account. 
Hilde  begs  her  mistress  to  listen  to  her  tale 
of  sorrow.  She  was  a  king’s  daughter.  Twelve 
knights  had  been  appointed  to  be  her  guard, 
and  one  had  beguiled  her,  Hildebrand,  son  of 
the  king  of  England.  They  went  off  together, 


90 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


and  were  surprised  by  her  brothers  [father,  B, 
C,  D].  Hildebrand  bade  her  be  of  good 
cheer ;  but  she  must  not  call  him  by  name  if 
she  saw  him  bleed  or  fall,  A,  B,  D.  A  heap 
of  knights  soon  lay  at  his  feet.  Hilde  forgot 
herself,  and  called  out,  Hildebrand,  spare 
my  youngest  brother  !  Hildebrand  that  in¬ 
stant  received  a  mortal  wound,  and  fell.  The 
younger  brother  tied  her  to  his  horse,  and 
dragged  her  home.  They  shut  her  up  at  first 
in  a  strong  tower,  built  for  the  purpose,  A, 
B  [Swedish  A,  a  dark  house],  and  afterwards 
sold  her  into  servitude  for  a  church  bell.  Her 
mother’s  heart  broke  at  the  bell’s  first  stroke, 
and  Hilde,  with  the  last  word  of  her  tale,  fell 
dead  in  the  queen’s  arms. 

The  most  important  deviation  of  the  later 
versions  from  the  old  is  exhibited  by  S  and  T, 
and  would  probably  be  observed  in  Q,  R,  as 
well,  were  these  complete.  S,  T  are  either  a 
mixture  of  ‘  Ribold  and  Guldborg  ’  with  ‘  Hil¬ 
debrand  and  Hilde,’  or  forms  transitional  be¬ 
tween  the  two.  In  these  Ribold  does  not  live 
to  reach  his  home,  and  Guldborg,  unable  to 
return  to  hers,  offers  herself  to  a  queen,  to 
spin  silk  and  weave  gold  [braid  hair  and  work 
gold].  But  she  cannot  sew  for  grief.  The 
queen  smacks  her  on  the  cheek  for  neglecting 
her  needle.  Poor  Guldborg  utters  a  protest, 
but  gives  no  explanation,  and  the  next  morn¬ 
ing  is  found  dead.  Singularly  enough,  the 
name  of  the  hero  in  Q,  R,  S,  T,  is  also  an  in¬ 
termediate  form.  Ribold  is  the  name  in  all 
the  old  Danish  copies  except  C,  and  that  has 
Ride-bolt.  Danish  I,  K,  X,  Z,  all  the  Ice¬ 
landic  copies,  and  Swedish  D,  have  either  Ri¬ 
bold  or  some  unimportant  variation.  Q,  R,  S, 
have  Ride-brand  [T,  Rederbrand].  All  copies 
of  Grundtvig  83,  except  Danish  G,  Swedish 
C,  which  do  not  give  the  hero’s  name,  have 
Hilde-brand ;  so  also  82  N,  O,  P,  V,  and  Kris- 
tensen,  I,  No  37.  The  name  of  the  woman 
is  nearly  constant  both  in  82  and  83. 

The  paradise  promised  Guldborg  in  all  the 
old  versions  of  82  *  disappears  from  the  re- 

*  Though  the  paradise  has  not  been  transmitted  in  any 
known  copy  of  ‘Earl  Brand,’  it  appears  very  distinctly  in 
the  opening  stanza  of  ‘  Leesome  Brand  ’  A.  This  last  has 
several  stanzas  towards  the  close  (33-35)  which  seem  to  be- 


cited  copies,  except  K,  M.  It  certainly  did 
not  originally  belong  to  ‘  Ribold  and  Guld¬ 
borg,’  or  to  another  Danish  ballad  in  which  it 
occurs  (‘  Den  trofaste  Jomfru,’  Grundtvig,  249 
A),  but  rather  to  ballads  like  ‘  Kvindemorde- 
ren,’  Grundtvig,  183  A,  or  ‘  Liti  Kersti,’  Land- 
stad,  44,  where  a  supernatural  being,  a  demon 
or  a  hillman,  seeks  to  entice  away  a  mor¬ 
tal  maid.  See  No  4,  p.  27.  In  82  L,  N,  U, 
V,  Y,  ^E,  0,  and  Kristensen’s  copies,  the  lov¬ 
ers  are  not  encountered  by  anybody  who  re¬ 
ports  their  flight.  Most  of  the  later  versions, 
K,  L,  M,  N,  P,  U,  V,  Y,  0,  and  Kris¬ 
tensen’s  three,  make  them  halt  in  a  wood, 
where  Ribold  goes  to  sleep  in  Guldborg’s  lap, 
and  is  roused  by  her  when  she  perceives  that 
they  are  pursued.  So  Norwegian  B,  Swed¬ 
ish  A,  B,  C,  and  ‘  Hildebrand  and  Hilde  ’  B. 
M,  Q,  R,  S,  T,  Z,  have  not  a  specific  prohi¬ 
bition  of  dead-naming ,  but  even  these  enjoin 
silence.  83  C  is  the  only  ballad  in  which 
there  is  a  fight  and  no  prohibition  of  either 
kind,  but  it  is  clear  from  the  course  of  the 
story  that  the  stanza  containing  the  usual  in¬ 
junction  has  simply  dropped  out.  P  is  distin¬ 
guished  from  all  other  forms  of  the  story  by 
the  heroine’s  killing  herself  before  her  dying 
lover  reaches  his  house. 

The  four  first  copies  of  ‘  Hildebrand  and 
Hilde,’  as  has  been  seen,  have  the  story  of 
Ribold  and  Guldborg  with  some  slight  dif¬ 
ferences  and  some  abridgment.  There  is  no 
elopement  in  B:  the  lovers  are  surprised  in 
the  princess’  bower.  When  Hilde  has  fin¬ 
ished  her  tale,  in  A,  the  queen  declares  that 
Hildebrand  was  her  son.  In  B  she  interrupts 
the  narrative  by  announcing  her  discovery 
that  Hildebrand  was  her  brother.  C  and  D 
have  nothing  of  the  sort.  There  is  no  fight 
in  E-H.  E  has  taken  up  the  commonplace 
of  the  bower  on  the  strand  which  was  forced 
by  nine  men.f  Hildebrand  is  again  the  son  of 
the  queen,  and,  coming  in  just  as  Hilde  has 
expired,  exclaims  that  he  will  have  no  other 
love,  sets  his  sword  against  a  stone,  and  runs 

• 

long  to  ‘  Earl  Brand,’  and  perhaps  derived  these,  the  “  unco 
land,”  and  even  its  name,  by  the  familiar  process  of  inter¬ 
mixture  of  traditions, 
t  See  No  5,  pp.  64,  65,  66. 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


91 


upon  it.  H  has  the  same  catastrophe.  F 
represents  the  father  as  simply  showing  great 
indignation  and  cruelty  on  finding  out  that 
one  of  the  guardian  knights  had  beguiled  his 
daughter,  and  presently  selling  her  for  a  new 
church  bell.  The  knight  turns  out  here  again 
to  be  the  queen’s  son ;  the  queen  says  he 
shall  betroth  Hille,  and  Hille  faints  for  joy. 
G  agrees  with  B  as  to  the  surprise  in  the 
bower.  The  knight’s  head  is  hewn  off  on  the 
spot.  The  queen  gives  Ililde  her  youngest 
son  for  a  husband,  and  Hilde  avows  that  she 
is  consoled.  I  agrees  with  E  so  far  as  it  goes, 
but  is  a  short  fragment. 

There  are  three  Icelandic  versions  of  this 
ballad,  ‘  Ribbalds  kvteSi,’  Islenzk  FornkvseSi, 
No  16,  all  of  the  seventeenth  century.  They 
all  come  reasonably  close  to  the  Danish  as  to 
the  story,  and  particularly  A.  Ilibbald,  with 
no  prologue,  invites  Gullbrun  “  to  ride.”  He 
sets  her  on  a  white  horse  ;  of  all  women  she 
rode  best.  They  have  gone  but  a  little  way, 
when  they  see  a  pilgrim  riding  towards  them, 
who  hails  Ribbald  with,  Welcome,  with  tliy 
stolen  maid !  Ribbald  pretends  that  the  maid 
is  his  sister,  but  the  pilgrim  knows  very  well 
it  is  Gullbrun.  She  offers  her  cloak  to  him 
not  to  tell  her  father,  but  the  pilgrim  goes 
straight  to  the  king,  and  says,  Thy  daugh¬ 
ter  is  off !  The  king  orders  his  harp  to  be 
brought,  for  no  purpose  but  to  dash  it  on  the 
floor  once  and  twice,  and  break  out  the  strings. 
He  then  orders  his  horse.  Gullbrun  sees  her 
father  come  riding  under  a  hill-side,  then  her 
eleven  brothers,  then  seven  brothers-in-law. 
She  begs  Ribbald  to  spare  her  youngest  broth¬ 
er's  life,  that  lie  may  carry  the  news  to  her 
mother.  He  replies,  I  will  tie  my  horse  by 
the  reins  ;  you  take  up  your  sewing !  then 
three  times  forbids  her  to  name  him  during 
the  fight.  He  slew  her  father  first,  next  the 
eleven  brothers,  then  the  other  seven,  all  which 
filled  her  with  compunction,  and  she  cried 
out,  Ribbald,  still  thy  brand  !  On  the  in¬ 
stant  Ribbald  received  many  wounds.  Pie 
wiped  his  bloody  sword,  saying,  This  is  what 
you  deserve,  Gullbrun,  but  love  is  your  shield  ; 
then  set  her  on  her  horse,  and  rode  to  his 
brother's  door.  He  called  out,  Here  is  a  wife 


for  you  !  But  Gullbrun  said,  Never  will  I  be 
given  to  two  brothers.  Soon  after  Ribbald 
gave  up  the  ghost.  There  was  more  mourn¬ 
ing  than  mirth  ;  three  bodies  went  to  the 
grave  in  one  coffin,  Ribbald,  his  lady,  and  his 
mother,  who  died  of  grief. 

B  and  C  have  lost  something  at  the  begin¬ 
ning,  C  starting  at  the  same  point  as  our 
‘  Douglas  Tragedy.’  The  king  pursues  Rib¬ 
bald  by  water.  Gullbrun  (B)  stands  in  a 
tower  and  sees  him  land.  Ribbald  gives  Gull¬ 
brun  to  his  brother,  as  in  A :  she  lives  in  sor¬ 
row,  and  dies  a  maid. 

Norwegian.  (‘  Ribold  and  Guldborg.’)  A, 
‘  Rikeball  og  stolt  GuSbjorg,’  Landstad,  33  ; 

B,  ‘  Venei'os  og  stolt  Olleber,’  Landstad,  34; 

C,  D,  E,  F,  in  part  described  and  cited,  with 
six  other  copies,  Grundtvig,  in,  p.  853  f.  The 
last  half  of  Landstad  No  23,  stanzas  17-34,  and 
stanzas  18-25  of  Landstad  28  B,  also  belong 
here.  A  agrees  with  the  older  Danish  ver¬ 
sions,  even  to  the  extent  of  the  paradise.  B 
has  been  greatly  injured.  Upon  the  lady’s 
warning  Yeneros  of  the  approach  of  her  fa¬ 
ther,  he  puts  her  up  in  an  oak-tree  for  safety. 
He  warns  her  not  to  call  him  by  name,  and 
she  says  she  will  rather  die  first ;  but  her  firm¬ 
ness  is  not  put  to  the  test  in  this  ballad,  some 
verses  having  dropped  out  just  at  this  point. 
Yeneros  is  advised  to  surrender,  but  dispatches 
his  assailants  by  eighteen  thousands  (like  Lil¬ 
le  brdr,  in  Landstad,  23),  and  by  way  of  con¬ 
clusion  hews  the  false  P&l  greive,  who  had  re¬ 
ported  his  elopement  to  Olleber’s  father,  into 
as  many  pieces.  He  then  takes  Olleber  on 
his  horse,  they  ride  away  and  are  married. 
Such  peculiarities  in  the  other  copies  as  are 
important  to  us  will  be  noticed  further  on. 

(‘  Hildebrand  and  Hilde.’)  A,  one  of  two 
Norwegian  copies  communicated  by  Professor 
Bugge  to  Grundtvig,  Hi,  857  f,  agrees  well 
with  Danish  E,  but  has  the  happy  conclusion 
of  Danish  F,  G,  I.  The  heroine  is  sold  for 
nine  bells.  B,  the  other,  omits  the  bower¬ 
breaking  of  A  and  Danish  E,  and  ends  with 
marriage. 

The  Swedish  forms  of  ‘  Ribold  and  Guld¬ 
borg’  are:  A,  ‘  Hillebrand,’  Afzelius,  No  2; 
B,  ‘  Herr  Redebold,’  and  C,  ‘  Kung  Vallemo,’ 


92 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


Afzelius,  No  80  ;  new  ed.,  No  2,  i,  2,  3;  D, 

‘  Ribbolt,’  Arwidsson,  No  78  ;  E,  ‘  Herr  Rede¬ 
bold  ’  F,  ‘  Herting  Liljebrand,’  and  G,  ‘Herr 
Balder,’  in  Cayallius  and  Stephens’  manu¬ 
script  collection;  H,  ‘Kung  Walmon,’  E. 
Wigstrom’s  Folkdiktning,  No  15,  p.  33.  A, 

B,  C,  H,  are  not  markedly  different  from  the 
ordinary  Danish  ballad,  and  this  is  true  also, 
says  Grundtvig,  of  the  unprinted  versions,  E, 
F,  G.  D  and  G  are  of  the  seventeenth  cent¬ 
ury,  the  others  from  recent  tradition.  Ribold 
is  pictured  in  D  as  a  bold  prince,  equally  versed 
in  runes  and  arts  as  in  manly  exercises.  He 
visits  Giotha  by  night :  they  slumber  sweet, 
but  wake  in  blood.  She  binds  up  his  wounds 
with  rich  kerchiefs.  He  rides  home  to  his  fa¬ 
ther’s,  and  sits  down  on  a  bench.  The  king 
bids  his  servants  see  what  is  the  matter,  and 
adds,  Be  he  sick  or  be  he  hurt,  he  got  it  at 
Giotha- Lilia’s.  They  report  the  prince  stabbed 
with  sharp  pikes  within,  and  bound  with  silk 
kerchiefs  without.  Ribold  bids  them  bury 
him  in  the  mould,  and  not  blame  Giotha- Lilia ; 
“  for  my  horse  was  fleet,  and  I  was  late,  and 
he  hurtled  me  ’gainst  an  apple-tree  ”  (so 
Hillebrand  in  A).  E  represents  the  heroine 
as  surviving  her  lover,  and  united  to  a  young 
king,  but  always  grieving  for  Redebold. 

‘Hildebrand  and  Hilde’  exists  in  Swedish  in 
three  versions  :  A,  a  broadside  of  the  last  part 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  now  printed  in  the 
new  edition  of  Afzelius,  p.  142  ff  of  the  notes 
(the  last  nine  stanzas  before,  in  Danske  Viser, 
in,  438  f)  ;  B,  Afzelius,  No  32,  new  ed.  No  26, 

C,  Arwidsson,  No  107,  both  taken  down  in  this 
century.  In  A  and  B  Hillebrand,  son  of  the 
king  of  England,  carries  off  Hilla  ;  they  halt 
in  a  grove  ;  she  wakes  him  from  his  sleep 
when  she  hears  her  father  and  seven  brothers 
coming;  he  enjoins  her  not  to  call  him  by 
name,  which  still  she  does  upon  her  father’s 
being  slain  [or  when  only  her  youngest  brother 
is  left],  and  Hillebrand  thereupon  receives 
mortal  wounds.  He  wipes  his  sword,  saying, 
This  is  what  you  would  deserve,  were  you 
not  Hilla.  The  youngest  brother  ties  Hilla 
to  his  horse,  drags  her  home,  and  confines  her 
in  a  dark  house,  which  swarms  with  snakes 
and  dragons  (A  only).  They  sell  her  for  a 


new  church  bell,  and  her  mother’s  heart  breaks 
at  the  first  sound.  Hilla  falls  dead  at  the 
queen’s  knee.  C  has  lost  the  dead-naming, 
and  ends  with  the  queen’s  promising  to  be 
Hilla’s  best  friend. 

A  detailed  comparison  of  the  English  bal¬ 
lads,  and  especially  of  ‘  Earl  Brand,’  with  the 
Scandinavian  (such  as  Grundtvig  has  made, 
in,  855  f)  shows  an  unusual  and  very  inter¬ 
esting  agreement.  The  name  Earl  Brand,  to 
begin  with,  is  in  all  probability  a  modification 
of  the  Hildebrand  found  in  Danish  82  N,  O, 
P,  V,  C*,  in  all  versions  of  Danish  83,  and  in 
the  corresponding  Swedish  A.  Ell,  too,  in 
Percy’s  fragment,  which  may  have  been  Elle 
earlier,  points  to  Hilde,  or  something  like  it, 
and  Erl-inton  might  easily  be  corrupted  from 
such  a  form  as  the  Alibrand  of  Norwegian  B 
(Grundtvig,  in,  858).  Hildebrand  is  the  son 
of  the  king  of  England  in  Danish  83  A-E,  and 
the  lady  in  ‘  Earl  Brand  ’  is  the  same  king’s 
daughter,  an  interchange  such  as  is  constantly 
occurring  in  tradition.  Stanza  2  can  hardly  be 
the  rightful  property  of  ‘  Earl  Brand.’  Some¬ 
thing  very  similar  is  met  with  in  ‘  Leesome 
Brand,’  and  is  not  much  in  place  there.  For 
‘  old  Carl  Hood,’  of  whom  more  presently, 
Danish  82  X  and  Norwegian  A,  C  have  an 
old  man,  Danish  C  a  crafty  man,  T  a  false 
younker,  and  Norwegian  B  and  three  others 
“  false  P&l  greive.”  The  lady’s  urging  Earl 
Brand  to  slay  the  old  carl,  and  the  answer, 
that  it  would  be  sair  to  kill  a  gray-haired  man, 
sts  8,  9,  are  almost  literally  repeated  in  Nor¬ 
wegian  A,  Landstad,  No  33.  The  knight  does 
slay  the  old  man  in  Danish  X  and  Norwegian 
C,  and  slays  the  court  page  in  Danish  Z,  and 
false  P&l  greive  in  Norwegian  B,  — in  this  last 
after  the  battle.  The  question,  “  Where  have 
ye  stolen  this  lady  away  ?  ”  in  st.  11,  occurs 
in  Danish  82  A,  D,  E,  K,  P,  R,  S,  T,  Z,  in 
Norwegian  B  and  Icelandic  B,  and  something 
very  similar  in  many  other  copies.  The  re¬ 
ply,  “  She  is  my  sick  sister,  whom  I  have 
brought  from  Winchester  ”  [nunnery] ,  is  found 
almost  literally  in  Danish  C,  X,  Z  :  “  It  is  my 
sick  sister;  I  took  her  yesterday  from  the 
cloister.”  [Danish  E,  it  is  my  youngest  sister 
from  the  cloister ;  she  is  sick :  Danish  A, 


7.  EARL 

youngest  sister  from  cloister  :  Danish  R  and 
Norwegian  B,  sister  from  cloister :  Danish  S, 
T,  sister’s  daughter  from  cloister  :  Norwegian 
F,  sister  from  Holstein  :  Danish  P,  Icelandic 

A,  Norwegian  A,  sister.]  The  old  man,  crafty 
man,  rich  earl,  in  the  Scandinavian  ballads, 
commonly  answers  that  he  knows  Guldborg 
very  well ;  but  in  Danish  D,  where  Ribold  says 
it  is  a  court  page  he  has  hired,  we  have  some¬ 
thing  like  sts  14,  15  :  “  Why  has  he  such  silk- 
braided  hair  ?  ”  On  finding  themselves  dis¬ 
covered,  the  lovers,  in  the  Scandinavian  bal¬ 
lad,  attempt  to  purchase  silence  with  a  bribe : 
Danish  A-I,  M,  Icelandic  and  Norwegian  A, 

B.  This  is  not  expressly  done  in  ‘Earl  Brand,’ 
but  the  same  seems  to  be  meant  in  st.  10  by 
“  I  ’ll  gie  him  a  pound.”  St.  17  is  fairly  par¬ 
alleled  by  Danish  S,  18,  19  :  “  Where  is  Guld¬ 
borg,  thy  daughter  ?  Walking  in  the  garden, 
gathering  roses  ;  ”  and  st.  18,  by  Norwegian 
B,  15:  “  You  may  search  without  and  search 
within,  and  see  whether  Olleberyou  can  find.” 
The  announcement  in  st.  19  is  made  in  al¬ 
most  all  the  Scandinavian  ballads,  in  words 
equivalent  to  “  Ribold  is  off  with  thy  daugh¬ 
ter,”  and  then  follows  the  arming  for  the  pur¬ 
suit.  The  lady  looks  over  her  shoulder  and 
sees  her  father  coming,  as  in  st.  21,  in  Danish 
82  A,  F,  H,  I,  Q,  R,  T,  X,  Z,  and  Norwe¬ 
gian  A. 

The  scene  of  the  fight  is  better  preserved 
in  the  Scottish  ballads  than  in  ‘  Earl  Brand,’ 
though  none  of  these  have  the  cardinal  inci¬ 
dent  of  the  death-naming.  All  the  Scottish 
versions,  B-F,  and  also  ‘  Erlinton,’  A,  B,  make 
the  lady  hold  the  knight’s  horse :  so  Danish 
82  B,  C,  E,  I,  A3,  D*,  Icelandic  C,  Norwegian 
and  Swedish  A,  and  Danish  83  D.  Of  the 
knight’s  injunction,  “  Name  me  not  to  death, 
though  thou  see  me  bleed,”  which,  as  has  been 
noted,  is  kept  by  nearly  every  Danish  ballad 
(and  by  the  Icelandic,  the  Norwegian,  and  by 
Swedish  ‘  Ribold  and  Guldborg,’  A,  B,  C,  H, 
Swedish  ‘  Hildebrand  and  Ililde,’  A,  B),  there 
is  left  in  English  only  this  faint  trace,  in 
‘  Erlinton,’  A,  B  :  “  See  ye  dinna  change  your 
cheer  until  ye  see  my  body  bleed.”  It  is  the 
wish  to  save  the  life  of  her  youngest  brother 
that  causes  the  lady  to  call  her  lover  by  name 


BRAND  93 

4 

in  the  larger  number  of  Scandinavian  ballads, 
and  she  adds,  “  that  he  may  carry  the  tidings 
to  my  mother,”  in  Danish  82  A,  B,  C,  E,  F, 
G,  H,  M,  X,  83  B,  C,  D.  Grief  for  her  fa¬ 
ther’s  death  is  the  impulse  in  Danish  82  I,  N, 
O,  Q,  R,  S,  Y,  Z,  M,  0,  A*,  C\  D\  E\  Swed¬ 
ish  A,  B,  C,  H.  English  A  says  nothing  of 
father  or  brother ;  but  in  B,  C,  D,  E,  it  is 
the  father’s  death  that  causes  the  exclama¬ 
tion.  All  the  assailants  are  slain  in  ‘  Erlinton  ’ 
A,  B,  except  an  aged  knight  [the  auldest 
man],  and  he  is  spared  to  carry  the  tidings 
home.  ‘  Erlinton  ’  C,  however,  agrees  with  the 
oldest  Danish  copies  in  making  the  youngest 
brother  the  motive  of  the  lady’s  intervention. 
It  is  the  fifteenth,  and  last,  of  the  assailants 
that  gives  Earl  Brand  his  death-wound  ;  in 
Danish  H,  the  youngest  brother,  whom  he  has 
been  entreated  to  spare ;  and  so,  apparently, 
in  Danish  C  and  Norwegian  A. 

The  question,  “  Will  you  go  with  me  or  re¬ 
turn  to  your  mother?”  which  we  find  in  Eng¬ 
lish  B,  C,  D,  is  met  with  also  in  many  Dan¬ 
ish  versions,  82  B,  H,  K,  L,  M,  N,  P,  U,  Z, 
A3,  0,  C*,  and  Swedish  A,  B,  C.  The  dying 
man  asks  to  have  his  bed  made  in  English  B, 
C,  as  in  Danish  82  B,  C,  K,  L,  N,  U,  X,  m, 
0,  C*,  D*,  Norwegian  A,  Swedish  A,  B,  C,  H, 
and  desires  that  the  lady  may  marry  his  brother 
in  English  A,  as  in  nearly  all  the  Danish  ver- 
sions,  Icelandic  A,  B,  C,  Norwegian  C,  D,  E, 
Swedish  C.  He  declares  her  a  maiden  true  in 
‘  Earl  Brand,’  A  c  33,  and  affirms  the  same 
with  more  particularity  in  Danish  82  B,  C, 
E,  F,  G,  M,  0,  Icelandic  B,  C,  Norwegian 
A,  C,  E,  Swedish  C.  The  growth  of  the  rose 
and  brier  [bush  and  brier]  from  the  lovers’ 
grave  in  English  B,  C,  is  not  met  with  in  any 
version  of  ‘  Ribold  and  Guldborg  ’  proper,  but 
‘  Den  farlige  Jomfru  ’  G,  Grundtvig,  184,  the 
last  half  of  which,  as  already  remarked,  is  a 
fragment  of  a  Ribold  ballad,  has  a  linden  in 
place  of  the  rose  and  brier. 

No  complete  ballad  of  the  Ribold  class  is 
known  to  have  survived  in  German,  but  a 
few  verses  have  been  interpolated  by  tradition 
in  the  earliest  copy  of  the  Ulinger  ballad 
(vv.  47-56),  which  may  almost  with  certainty 
be  assigned  to  one  of  the  other  description. 


94 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


They  disturb  the  narrative  where  they  are, 
and  a  ready  occasion  for  their  slipping  in  was 
afforded  by  the  scene  being  exactly  the  same 
in  both  ballads :  a  knight  and  a  lady,  with 
whom  he  had  eloped,  resting  in  a  wood.*  See 
No  4,  p.  32  of  this  volume. 

We  find  in  a  pretty  Neapolitan- Albanian 
ballad,  which,  with  others,  is  regarded  by  the 
editors  as  a  fragment  of  a  connected  poem, 
several  of  the  features  of  these  northern  ones. 
A  youth  asks  a  damsel  in  marriage,  but  is  not 
favored  by  her  mother,  father,  or  brother. 
He  wins  over  first  the  mother  and  then  the 
father  by  handsome  presents,  but  his  gifts, 
though  accepted,  do  not  conciliate  the  brother. 
He  carries  off  the  lady  on  horseback,  and  is 
attacked  by  the  brother,  four  uncles,  and  seven 
cousins.  He  is  killed  and  falls  from  his  horse ; 
with  him  the  lady  falls  dead  also,  and  both  are 
covered  up  with  stones.  In  the  spring  the 
youth  comes  up  a  cypress,  the  damsel  comes 
up  a  vine,  and  encloses  the  cypress  in  her  arms. 
(Rapsodie  d’un  poema  albanese  raccolte  nelle 
colonie  del  Napoletano,  de  Rada  and  de’  Co- 
ronei,  Florence,  1866,  lib.  ii.,  canto  viii.) 

These  ballads  would  seem  to  belong  among 
the  numerous  ramifications  of  the  Hilde  saga. 
Of  these,  the  second  lay  of  Helgi  Hunding- 
slayer,  in  Ssemund’s  Edda,  and  ‘Waltharius,’ 
the  beautiful  poem  of  Ekkehard,  are  most  like 
the  ballads. f  Leaving  ‘Waltharius’  till  we 
come  to  ‘Erlinton,’  we  may  notice  that  Sigrun, 
in  the  Helgi  lay,  though  promised  by  her  father 

*  Compare  vv  49-56,  “  Wilt  thou  ride  to  them,  or  wilt 
thou  fight  with  them,  or  wilt  thou  stand  by  thy  love,  sword 
in  hand ?  ”  “I  will  not  ride  to  them,  I  will  not  fight  with 
them  [i.  e.,  begin  the  fight],  but  I  will  stand  by  my  love, 
sword  in  hand,”  with  Norwegian  A,  29,  30  :  “  Shall  we 
ride  to  the  wood,  or  shall  we  bide  like  men  ?  ”  “  We  will 

not  ride  to  the  wood,  but  we  will  bide  like  men.”  And  also 
with  Danish  A3,  sts  14,  15. 

t  The  chief  branches,  besides  the  Helgi  lay  and  Walter, 
are  the  saga  in  Snorri’s  Edda,  Skaldskaparmal,  §  50  ;  that  in 
Saxo  Grammaticus,  Stephanius,  ed.  1 644,  pp.  88-90 ;  Soria 
J>attr,  in  Eornaldar  Sogur,  i,  391  ff;  the  Shetland  ballad 
printed  in  Low’s  Tour  through  the  Islands  of  Orkney  and 
Shetland,  108  ff,  and  in  Barry’s  History  of  the  Orkney 
Islands,  2d  ed.,  489  ff,  and  paraphrased  in  Hibbert’s  Descrip¬ 
tion  of  the  Shetland  Islands,  561  ff ;  the  Thidrik  saga,  §§  233- 
239,  Unger  ;  Gudrun,  v-viii.  The  names  of  father,  daughter, 
and  lover  in  these  are  :  (1 )  Hdgni,  — ,  Hogni,  Hogin-,  Hogni, 
— ,  [Artus],  Hagen;  (2)  [Sigrun],  Hilde-gunde,  Hildr,  Hilda, 
Hildr,  Hildina,  Hildr,  Hilde;  (3)  Helgi,  [Walter],  Hedin, 
Hithin-,  Hedin,  — ,  [Herburt],  Iletel.  Hagan,  in  ‘  Waltha- 


to  another  man,  Hodbrodd,  son  of  Granmar, 
preferred  Helgi.  She  sought  him  out,  and  told 
him  frankly  her  predicament:  she  feared,  she 
said,  the  wrath  of  her  friends,  for  breaking  her 
father’s  promise.  Helgi  accepted  her  affec¬ 
tion,  and  bade  her  not  care  for  the  displeasure 
of  her  relatives.  A  great  battle  ensued  be¬ 
tween  Helgi  and  the  sons  of  Granmar,  who  were 
aided  by  Sigrun’s  father  and  brothers.  All  her 
kinsmen  were  slain  except  one  brother,  Dag. 
He  bound  himself  to  peace  with  Helgi,  but, 
notwithstanding,  made  sacrifices  to  Odin  to 
obtain  the  loan  of  his  spear,  and  with  it  slew 
Helgi.  We  have,  therefore,  in  so  much  of 
the  lay  of  Helgi  Hundingslayer,  the  ground¬ 
work  of  the  story  of  the  ballads :  a  woman, 
who,  as  in  many  of  tbe  Ribold  ballads,  has 
been  betrothed  to  a  man  she  does  not  care  for, 
gives  herself  to  another ;  there  is  a  fight,  in 
which  a  great  number  of  her  kinsmen  fall; 
one  brother  survives,  who  is  the  death  of  the 
man  she  loves.  The  lay  of  Helgi  Hiorvard’s 
son,  whose  story  has  much  in  common  with 
that  of  his  namesake,  affords  two  resemblances 
of  detail  not  found  in  the  lay  of  the  Hun¬ 
dingslayer.  Helgi  Hiorvard’s  son,  while  his 
life-blood  is  ebbing,  expresses  himself  in  al¬ 
most  the  words  of  the  dying  Ribold :  “  The 
sword  has  come  very  near  my  heart.”  He 
then,  like  Ribold  and  Earl  Brand,  declares  his 
wish  that  his  wife  should  marry  his  brother, 
and  she,  like  Guldborg,  declines  a  second 
union.  J 

rius,’  may  be  said  to  take  the  place  of  the  father,  who  is  want¬ 
ing;  and  this  is  in  a  measure  true  also  of  Hedin,  Helgi’s  half- 
brother,  in  the  lay  of  Helgi  Hiorvard’s  son.  See  the  excellent 
discussion  of  the  saga  by  Klee,  Zur  Hildesage,  Leipzig, 
1873. 

The  Swedish  ballad,  ‘  Herr  Hjelmer,’  A,  Arwidsson,  i,  155, 
No  21  ;  B,  C,  Afzelius,  n,  178,  226,  No  74  (Helmer) ;  D, 
E.  Wigstrdm,  Folkdiktning,  p.  25,  No  10  (Hjelman),  has 
several  points  of  agreement  with  Ribold  and  the  Hilde  saga. 
The  hero  kills  six  of  seven  brothers  [also  the  father,  in  A], 
spares  the  seventh  on  oath  of  fidelity,  and  is  treacherously 
slain  by  him.  The  youngest  brother  carries  her  lover’s  head 
to  his  sister,  is  invited  to  drink  by  her  (in  three  of  the  four 
copies),  and  slain  while  so  engaged;  reminding  us  of  Hil¬ 
dina  in  tbe  Shetland  ballad.  Danish  ‘  Herr  Hjaelm,’  Grundt- 
vig,  Danske  Folkeminder,  1861,  p.  81,  agrees  with  the  Swed¬ 
ish,  except  that  there  are  only  three  brothers. 

J  Helgakviba  HjdrvafSssouar,  ed.  Grundtvig,  42-44,  Ribold 
og  Guldborg,  A  33,  34,  B  46,  D  46,  47,  E  42,  Q  24.  The 
observation  is  Professor  Bugge’s. 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


95 


There  is  also  a  passage  in  the  earlier  his¬ 
tory  of  Helgi  Hundingslayer  of  which  traces 
appear  to  be  preserved  in  ballads,  and  be¬ 
fore  all  in  the  English  ballad  ‘Earl  Brand,’ 
A.  Handing  and  Ilelgi’s  family  were  at  feud. 
Helgi  introduced  himself  into  Handing’s  court 
as  a  spy,  and  when  he  was  retiring  sent  word 
to  Handing’s  son  that  he  had  been  there  dis¬ 
guised  as  a  son  of  Hagai,  Helgi’s  foster-father. 
H unding  sent  men  to  take  him,  and  Helgi,  to 
escape  them,  was  forced  to  assume  woman’s 
clothes  and  grind  at  the  mill.  While  Hun- 
ding’s  men  are  making  search,  a  mysterious 
blind  man,  surnamed  the  bale-wise,  or  evil- 
witted  (Blindr  inn  bolvfsi),  calls  out,  Sharp 
are  the  eyes  of  Hagai’s  maid  ;  it  is  no  churl’s 
blood  that  stands  at  the  mill  ;  the  stones  are 
riving,  the  meal-trough  is  springing  ;  a  hard 
lot  has  befallen  a  war-king  when  a  chieftain 
must  grind  strange  barley  ;  fitter  for  that  hand 
is  the  sword-hilt  than  the  mill-handle.  Ha¬ 
gai  pretends  that  the  fierce-eyed  maid  is  a 
virago  whom  Helgi  had  taken  captive,  and  in 
the  end  Helgi  escapes.  This  malicious  person¬ 
age  reappears  in  the  HrSmund  saga  as  “  Blind 
the  Bad  ”  and  “  the  Carl  Blind,  surnamed  Ba- 
vfs,”  and  is  found  elsewhere.  His  likeness  to 
“  old  Carl  Hood,”  who  “  comes  for  ill,  but 
never  for  good,”  and  who  gives  information 
of  Earl  Brand’s  flight  with  the  king’s  daugh¬ 
ter,  does  not  require  to  be  insisted  on.  Both 
are  identical,  we  can  scarcely  doubt,  with  the 
blind  [one-eyed]  old  man  of  many  tales,  who 
goes  about  in  various  disguises,  sometimes  as 
beggar,  with  his  hood  or  hat  slouched  over  his 
face,  —  that  is  Odin,  the  SiShottr  or  Deep- 
hood  of  Ssemund,  who  in  the  saga  of  H&lf  and 
his  champions  is  called  simple  Hood,  as  here, 
and  expressly  said  to  be  Odin.516  Odin,  though 

*  Hottr,  er  6Sinn  var  reyndar,  Hood,  who  was  Odin  really, 
Fornaldar  Sogur,  n,  p.  25.  Klee  observes,  p.  10  f,  that 
Hdgni  [Hagen]  is  the  evil  genius  of  the  Hildesage.  Some¬ 
times  he  is  the  heroine’s  father  ;  in  ‘  Waltharius,’  strangely 
enough,  the  hero’s  old  friend  (and  even  there  a  one-eyed 
man.)  Klee  treats  the  introduction  of  a  rival  lover  (as  in  the 
Shetland  ballad  and  Gudrun)  as  a  departure  from  the  older 
story.  But  we  have  the  rival  in  Helgi  Hundingslayer.  The 
proper  marplot  in  this  lay  is  Blind  the  Ill-wittcd  (Odin), 
whose  part  is  sustained  in  ‘  Earl  Brand  ’  by  the  malicious 
Hood,  in  several  Norwegian  ballads  by  a  very  enigmatical 
“  false  l’al  greive,”  in  two  other  Norwegian  ballads  and  one 


not  a  thoroughly  malignant  divinity,  had  his 
dark  side,  and  one  of  his  titles  in  Sscmund’s 
Edda  is  Bolverkr,  maleficus.  He  first  caused 
Avar  by  casting  his  spear  among  men,  and  Dag, 
after  he  has  killed  Helgi,  says  Odin  was  the 
author  of  all  the  mischief,  for  he  brought 
strife  among  kinsmen. f 

The  disastrous  effects  of  “naming”  in  a 
great  emergency  appear  in  other  northern  tra¬ 
ditions,  though  not  so  frequently  as  one  would 
expect.  A  diverting  Swedish  saga,  which  has 
been  much  quoted,  relates  how  St.  Olof  bar¬ 
gained  with  a  troll  for  the  building  of  a  huge 
church,  the  pay  to  be  the  sun  and  moon,  or 
St'.  Olof  himself.  The  holy  man  was  equally 
amazed  and  embarrassed  at  seeing  the  build¬ 
ing  run  up  by  the  troll  with  great  rapidity, 
but  during  a  ramble  among  the  hills  had  the 
good  luck  to  discover  that  the  troll’s  name  was 
Wind  and  Weather,  after  which  all  was  easy. 
For  while  the  troll  was  on  the  roof  of  the 
church,  Olof  called  out  to  him, 

‘  Wind  and  Weather,  hi ! 

You ’ve  set  the  spire  awry  ;  ’ 

and  the  troll,  thus  called  by  his  name,  lost  his 
strength,  fell  off,  and  was  dashed  into  a  hun¬ 
dred  pieces,  all  flint  stones.  (Iduna,  Part  3, 
p.  60  f,  note.  Other  forms  of  the  same  story 
in  Afzelius,  Sago-Hjifder,  ill,  100  f ;  Faye, 
Norske  Folke-Sagn,  p.  14,  2d  ed. ;  Hofberg, 
Nerikes  Gamla  Minnen,  p.  234.) 

It  is  a  Norwegian  belief  that  when  a  nix 
assumes  the  human  shape  in  order  to  carry 
some  one  off,  it  will  be  his  death  if  the  se¬ 
lected  victim  recognizes  him  and  names  him, 
and  in  this  way  a  woman  escaped  in  a  ballad. 
She  called  out,  So  you  are  the  Nix,  that  pes¬ 
tilent  beast,  and  the  nix  “  disappeared  in  red 

Danish  by  an  old  naan,  and,  what  is  most  remarkable,  in  the 
Shetland  ballad  by  the  rejected  lover  of  Hildina  (the  Sir 
Nilaus  of  Danish  D,  Hertug  Nilsson  of  some  Norwegian 
copies),  who  bears  the  name  Hiluge,  interpreted  with  great 
probability  by  Conrad  Hofmann  (Munich  Sitzungsberichte, 
1867,  ii,  209,  note),  Illhugi,  der  Bbssinnige,  evil-minded 
(Icelandic  l'llhugnffr,  flluSigr.) 

t  Inimicitias  Othinus  serit,  Saxo,  p.  142,  ed.  1644.  See 
Grimm,  Deutsche  Mythologie,  i,  120,  note  2,  iii,  56,  new  ed., 
for  Odin’s  bad  points,  though  some  of  Grimm’s  interpreta¬ 
tions  might  now  be  objected  to. 


96 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


blood.”  (Faye,  as  above,  p.  49,  note.)  A  nix 
is  baffled  in  the  same  way  in  a  Fseroe  and  an 
Icelandic  ballad  cited  by  Grundtvig,  n,  57. 

The  marvellous  horse  Blak  agrees  to  carry 
Waldemar  [Hildebrand]  over  a  great  piece  of 
water  for  the  rescue  of  his  daughter  [sister] , 
stipulating,  however,  that  his  name  shall  not 
be  uttered.  The  rider  forgets  himself  in  a 
panic,  calls  to  the  horse  by  his  name,  and  is 
thrown  off  into  the  water.  The  horse,  whose 
powers  had  been  supernatural,  and  who  had 
been  running  over  the  water  as  if  it  were  land, 
has  now  only  ordinary  strength,  and  is  forced 
to  swim.  He  brings  the  lady  back  on  the 
same  terms,  which  she  keeps,  but  when  he 
reaches  the  land  he  is  bleeding  at  every  hair, 
and  falls  dead.  (Landstad,  58;  Grundtvig,  62  ; 
Afzelius,  59,  preface ;  Kristensen,  I,  No  66.) 

Klaufi,  a  berserker,  while  under  the  opera¬ 
tion  of  his  peculiar  fury,  loses  his  strength, 
and  caii  no  longer  wield  the  weapon  he  was 
fighting  with,  upon  Glass’s  ciying  out,  “  Klaufi, 
Klaufi,  be  not  so  mad  !  ”  (Svarfdmla  Saga,  p. 
147,  and  again  p.  156  f.)  So  the  blood-thirst 
of  the  avenger’s  sword  in  the  magnificent 
Danish  ballad  ‘  Hsevnersvmrdet  ’  is  restrained 
by  naming.  (Grundtvig,  No  25,  st.  85.)  Again, 
men  engaged  in  hamfarir ,  that  is  in  roving 
about  in  the  shape  of  beasts,  their  proper 
bodies  remaining  lifeless  the  while,  must  not 
be  called  by  name,  for  this  might  compel  them 
to  return  at  once  to  their  own  shape,  or  pos¬ 
sibly  prevent  their  ever  doing  so.  (Kristni 
Saga,  ed.  1778,  p.  149.  R.  T.  King,  in  Notes 
and  Queries,  2d  Ser.,  n,  506.)  Grundtvig  re¬ 
marks  that  this  belief  is  akin  to  what  is  re¬ 
lated  in  Fafnism&l  (prose  interpolation  after 
st.  1),  that  Sigurd  concealed  his  name  by  rea¬ 
son  of  a  belief  in  old  times  that  a  dying  man’s 
word  had  great  power,  if  he  cursed  his  foe 
by  name.  (D.  g.  F.,  n,  340.) 

The  beautiful  fancy  of  plants  springing  from 
the  graves  of  star-crossed  lovers,  and  signify¬ 
ing  by  the  intertwining  of  stems  or  leaves, 
or  in  other  analogous  ways,  that  an  earthly 
passion  has  not  been  extinguished  by  death, 
presents  itself,  as  is  well  known,  very  fre¬ 
quently  in  popular  poetry.  Though  the  graves 
be  made  far  apart,  even  on  opposite  sides  of 


the  church,  or  one  to  the  north  and  one  to 
the  south  outside  of  the  church,  or  one  with¬ 
out  kirk  wall  and  one  in  the  choir,  however 
separated,  the  vines  or  trees  seek  one  another 
out,  and  mingle  their  branches  or  their  fo¬ 
liage  : 

“  Even  from  the  tomb  the  voice  of  Nature  cries, 

Even  in  our  ashes  live  their  wonted  fires !  ” 

The  principal  ballads  which  exhibit  this 
conception  in  one  or  another  form  are  the  fol¬ 
lowing  : 

In  English,  ‘  The  Douglas  Tragedy,’  ‘  Fair 
Margaret  and  Sweet  William,’  ‘  Lord  Thomas 
and  Fair  Annet,’  ‘Fair  Janet,’  ‘Prince  Robert,’ 
‘  Lord  Lovel.’  The  plants  in  all  these  are  either 
a  brier  and  a  rose,  or  a  brier  and  a  birk. 

Swedish.  Arwidsson,  No  73  :  the  graves 
are  made  east  and  west  of  the  church,  a  lin¬ 
den  grows  from  each,  the  trees  meet  over  the 
church  roof.  So  E.  Wigstrom,  Folkdiktning, 
No  20,  p.  42.  Arwidsson  74  A  :  Rosea  Lill'a 
and  the  duke  are  buried  south  and  north  in 
the  church-yard.  A  rose  from  her  grave  cov¬ 
ers  his  with  its  leaves.  The  duke  is  then  laid 
in  her  grave,  from  which  a  linden  springs. 
74  B  :  the  rose  as  before,  and  a  linden  from  the 
duke’s  grave.  Arwidsson,  72,  68,  Afzelius, 
No  19  (new  ed.,  18),  23  (new  ed.,  21,  l,  2): 
a  common  grave,  with  a  linden,  two  trees,  or 
lilies,  and,  in  the  last,  roses  also  gi'owing  from 
the  mouths  of  both  lovers.  In  one  version 
the  linden  leaves  bear  the  inscription,  My 
father  shall  answer  to  me  at  doomsday. 

Norwegian.  Landstad,  65  :  the  lovers  are 
laid  north  and  south  of  the  church  ;  lilies  grow 
over  the  church  roof. 

Danish.  Danske  Viser,  124, 153,  two  roses. 
Kristensen,  n,  No  60,  two  lilies,  interlocking 
over  church  wall  and  ridge.  61  B,  C  (=  Af¬ 
zelius,  19),  separate  graves  ;  B,  a  lily  from 
each  grave ;  C,  a  flower  from  each  breast. 
Grundtvig,  184  G,  271  N,  a  linden;  Danske 
Folkeminder,  1861,  p.  81,  two  lilies. 

German.  ‘  Der  Ritter  u.  die  Maid,’  (1) 
Nicolai,  I,  No  2,  =  Kretzschmer,  1,  54 ;  (2) 
Uhland,  97  A,  Simrock,  12  ;  (3)  Erk’s  Lied- 
erhort,  26  ;  Hoffmann  u.  Richter,  4  :  the  lov¬ 
ers  are  buried  together,  and  there  grow  from 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


97 


their  grave  (1)  three  pinks,  (2)  three  lilies, 
(3)  two  lilies.  Wunderhorn,  1857,  i,  53,  Mit- 
tler,  No  91 :  the  maid  is  buried  in  the  church¬ 
yard,  the  knight  under  the  gallows.  A  lily 
grows  from  his  grave,  with  an  inscription,  Beid 
waren  beisammen  im  Himmel.  Ditfurth,  n, 
7 :  two  lilies  spring  from  her  (or  their)  grave, 
bearing  a  similar  inscription.  In  Ilaupt  and 
Schmaler,  Volkslieder  der  Wenden,  I,  13G, 
from  the  German,  rue  is  planted  on  the  maid’s 
grave,  in  accordance  with  the  last  words  of 
the  knight,  and  the  same  inscription  appears 
on  one  of  the  leaves. 

4  Graf  Friedrich,’  Uhland,  122,  Wunder¬ 
horn,  ii,  293,  Mittler,  108,  Erk’s  Lieder- 
hort,  15  a:  Graf  Friedrich's  bride  is  by  ac¬ 
cident  mortally  wounded  while  he  is  bring¬ 
ing  her  home.  Her  father  kills  him,  and  he 
is  dragged  at  a  horse’s  heels.  Three  lilies 
spring  from  his  grave,  with  an  inscription, 
Er  war  bei  Gott  geblieben.  He  is  then 
buried  with  his  bride,  the  transfer  being  at¬ 
tended  with  other  miraculous  manifestations. 
Other  versions,  Hoffmann  u.  Richter,  19,  = 
Mittler,  112,  =  Liederhort,  15  ;  Mittler,  113, 
114 ;  also  Meinert,  23,  =  Mittler,  109,  etc. : 
the  lilies  in  most  of  these  growing  from  the 
bride's  grave,  with  words  attesting  the  knight’s 
innocence. 

Lilies,  with  inscriptions  also  in  Wunder¬ 
horn,  ii,  p.  251,  =  Mittler,  128,  ‘  Alle  bei 
Gott  die  sich  lieben  ;  ’  Mittler,  130  ;  Ditfurth, 
II,  4,  9 ;  Scherer,  J ungbrunnen,  9  A,  25  ;  Po- 
gatschnigg  und  Hermann,  1458.  Three  lilies 
from  a  maid’s  grave :  ‘  Die  schwazbraune 
Hexe  ’  (‘  Es  blies  ein  Jager  ’),  Nicolai,  I,  8 ; 
Wunderhorn,  I,  36;  Grater’s  Bragur,  I,  280; 
Uhland,  103 ;  Liederhort,  9 ;  Simrock,  93 ; 
Fiedler,  p.  158 ;  Ditfurth,  n,  33,  34 ;  Reiffer- 
scheid,  15,  etc.  Three  roses,  Hoffmann  u. 
Richter,  171,  p.  194;  three  pinks,  ib .,  172; 
rose,  pink,  lily,  Alemannia,  IV,  35.  Three 
lilies  from  a  man’s  grave  :  £  Der  Todwunde :  ’ 
Schade,  Bergreien,  10,  =  Uhland,  93  A,  = 
Liederhort,  34  g,  =  Mittler,  47,  etc. 

Portuguese.  ‘  Conde  Nillo,’  ‘  Conde  Nino,’ 
Almeida-Garrett,  in,  No  18,  at  p.  21  ;  Braga, 
Rom.  Geral.,  No  14,  at  p.  38,  =  Hartung,  I, 
217 :  the  infanta  is  buried  at  the  foot  of  the 

13 


high  altar,  Conde  Nillo  near  the  church  door ; 
a  cj'press  and  an  orange  [pines].  Almeida- 
Garrett,  m,  No  20,  at  p.  38  :  a  sombre  clump 
of  pines  over  the  knight,  reeds  from  the  prin¬ 
cess’s  grave,  which,  though  cut  down,  shoot 
again,  and  are  heard  sighing  in  the  night. 
Braga,  Archip.  Agor.,  ‘  Filha  Maria,’  ‘  Dom 
Doardos,’  ‘  A  Ermida  no  Mar,’  Nos  32,  33, 
34,  Hartung,  i,  220-224;  Estacio  da  Veiga, 
‘  Dom  Diniz,’  p.  64-67,  =  Hartung,  I,  217,  2 : 
tree  and  pines,  olive  and  pines,  clove-tree  and 
pine,  roses  and  canes :  in  all,  new  miracles  fol¬ 
low  the  cutting  down.  So  also  Almeida-Gar¬ 
rett,  No  6,  I,  167. 

Roumanian.  Alecsandri,  7,  Stanley,  p.  16, 
4  Ring  and  Handkerchief,’  translated  by  Stan¬ 
ley,  p.  193,  Murray,  p.  56  :  a  fir  and  a  vine, 
which  meet  over  the  church. 

French.  Beaurepaire,  Podsie  pop.  en  Nor¬ 
mandie,  p.  51 :  a  thorn  and  an  olive  are  planted 
over  the  graves  ;  the  thorn  embraces  the  olive. 

Romaic.  Passow,  Nos  414,  415,  456,  469  ; 
Zambelios,  p.  754,  No  41  ;  Tommaseo,  Canti 
Popolari,  in,  135 ;  Chasiotis,  p.  103,  No  22  : 
a  cypress  from  the  man’s  grave,  a  reed  from 
the  maid’s  (or  from  a  common  tomb)  ;  re¬ 
versed  in  Passow,  Nos  418,  470,  and  Schmidt, 
Griechische  March  en,  u.  s.  w.,  No  59,  p.  203. 
Sakellarios,  p.  25,  No  9,  cypress  and  apple- 
tree  ;  p.  38,  No  13,  cypi’ess  and  lemon-tree. 
(F.  Liebrecht,  Zur  Volkskunde,  pp.  166,  168, 
182,  183.) 

Servian.  Talvj,  Y.  L.  der  Serben,  n,  p. 
85 :  a  fir  and  a  rose ;  the  rose  twines  round 
the  fir. 

Wend.  ILaupt  and  Schmaler,  V.  L.  der 
Wenden,  n,  No  48:  a  maid,  who  kills  her¬ 
self  on  account  of  the  death  of  her  lover,  or¬ 
ders  two  grape  vines  to  be  planted  over  their 
graves  :  the  vines  intertwine. 

Breton.  Luzel,  I,  p.  423  :  a  fleur-de-lis 
springs  from  a  common  tomb,  and  is  always 
in  flower,  however  often  it  is  plucked. 

Italo- Albanian.  De  Rada,  Rapsodie  d’un 
poema  albanese,  etc.,  p.  47  :  the  youth  comes 
up  (nacque)  a  cypress  ;  the  maid  a  white  vine, 
which  clings  around  the  tree.  Camarda,  Ap- 
pendice  al  saggio  di  grammatologia  comparata, 

‘  Angelina,’  p.  112,  the  same  ;  but  inappropri- 


98 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


ately,  as  Liebrecht  lias  remarked,  fidelity  in 
love  being:  wanting  in  this  case. 

Magyar.  The  lovers  are  buried  before  and 
behind  the  altar  ;  white  and  red  lilies  spring 
from  the  tombs  ;  mother  or  father  destroys 
or  attempts  to  destroy  the  plants  :  Aigner, 
Ungarisclie  Volksdichtungen,  2d  ed.,  at  p.  92, 
p.  138,  131  f.  Again,  at  p.  160,  of  the  4  Two 
Princes’  (Hero  and  Leander)  :  here  a  white 
and  a  red  tulip  are  planted  over  the  graves,  in 
a  garden,  and  it  is  expressly  said  that  the  souls 
of  the  enamored  pair  passed  into  the  tulips. 
In  the  first  piece  the  miracle  occurs  twice. 
The  lovers  had  thrown  themselves  into  a  deep 
lake ;  plants  rose  above  the  surface  of  the 
water  and  intertwined  (p.  91)  ;  the  bodies 
were  brought  up  by  divers  and  buried  in  the 
church,  where  the  marvel  was  repeated. 

Afghan.  Audam  and  Doorkhaunee,  a  poem 
“  read,  repeated,  and  sung,  through  all  parts 
of  the  country,”  Elphinstone’s  Account  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Caubul,  1815,  p.  185  f :  two  trees 
spring  from  their  remains,  and  the  branches 
mingle  over  their  tomb.  First  cited  by  Talvj, 
Versuch,  p.  140. 

Kurd.  Mem  and  Zin,  a  poem  of  Ahmed 
Xani,  died  1652-3  :  two  rose  bushes  spring 
from  their  graves  and  interlock.  Bulletin  de 
la  classe  des  sciences  historiques,  etc.,  de  l’acad. 
impdr.  des  sciences  de  St.  Pet.,  tome  xv,  No 
11,  p.  170. 

The  idea  of  the  love-animated  plants  has 
been  thought  to  be  derived  from  the  romance 
of  Tristan,  where  it  also  occurs ;  agreeably  to  a 
general  principle,  somewhat  hastily  assumed, 
that  when  romances  and  popular  ballads  have 
anything  in  common,  priority  belongs  to  the 
romances.  The  question  as  to  precedence  in 
this  instance  is  an  open  one,  for  the  fundamen¬ 
tal  conception  is  not  less  a  favorite  with  an¬ 
cient  Greek  than  with  medieval  imagination. 

Tristan  and  Isolde  had  unwittingly  drunk 
of  a  magical  potion  which  had  the  power  to 
induce  an  indestructible  and  ever-increasing 
love.  Tristan  died  of  a  wound  received  in  one 

*  Et  de  la  tombe  de  monseigneur  Tristan  yssoit  une  ronce 
belle  et  verte  et  bien  feuilleue,  qui  alloit  par  dessus  la  cha- 
pelle,  et  descendoit  le  bout  de  la  ronce  sur  la  tombe  de  la 
royne  Yseult,  et  entroit  dedans.  La  virent  les  gens  du  pays 


of  his  adventures,  and  Isolde  of  a  broken 
heart,  because,  though  summoned  to  his  aid, 
she  arrived  too  late  for  him  to  profit  by  her ' 
medical  skill.  They  were  buried  in  the  same 
church.  According  to  the  French  prose  ro¬ 
mance,  a  green  brier  issued  from  Tristan’s 
tomb,  mounted  to  the  roof,  and,  descending 
to  Isolde’s  tomb,  made  its  way  within.  King 
Marc  caused  the  brier  to  be  cut  down  three 
several  times,  but  the  morning  after  it  was  as 
flourishing  as  before. * 

Eilhart  von  Oberge,  vv.  9509-21  (ed.  Lich¬ 
tenstein,  Quell en  u.  Forschungen,  xix,  429) 
and  the  German  prose  romance  (Buscliing  u. 
von  der  Hagen,  Buch  der  Liebe,  c.  60),  Ul¬ 
rich  von  Thiirheim,  vv.  3546-50,  and  Heinrich 
von  Freiberg,  vv.  6819-41  (in  von  der  Hagen’s 
ed.  of  G.  v.  Strassburg’s  Tristan)  make  King 
Marc  plant ,  the  first  two  a  grape-vine  over 
Tristan  and  a  rose  over  Isolde,  the  others, 
wrongly,  the  rose  over  Tristan  and  the  vine 
over  Isolde.  These  plants,  according  to  Hein¬ 
rich,  struck  their  roots  into  the  hearts  of  the 
lovei’s  below,  while  their  branches  embraced 
above.  Icelandic  ballads  and  an  Icelandic  saga 
represent  Tristan’s  wife  as  forbidding  the  lov¬ 
ers  to  be  buried  in  the  same  grave,  and  order¬ 
ing  them  to  be  buried  on  opposite  sides  of  the 
church.  Trees  spring  from  their  bodies  and 
meet  over  the  church  roof.  (Islen^k  Form 
kvteSi,  23  A,  B,  C,  D  ;  Saga  af  Tristram  ok 
Isond,  Brynjulfson,  p.  199  ;  Tristrams  Saga  ok 
Isondar,  Kolbing,  p.  112).  The  later  Titurel 
imitates  the  conclusion  of  Tristan.  (Der  jiin- 
gere  Titurel,  ed.  Hahn,  sts  5789,  5790.) 

Among  the  miracles  of  the  Virgin  there  are 
several  which  are  closely  akin  to  the  prodigies 
already  noted.  A  lily  is  found  growing  from 
the  mouth  of  a  clerk,  who,  though  not  leading 
an  exemplary  life,  had  every  day  said  his  ave 
before  the  image  of  Mary :  Unger,  Mariu  Saga, 
No  50 ;  Berceo,  No  3  ;  Miracles  de  N.-D.  de 
Chartres,  p.  lxiii,  No  29,  and  p.  239 ;  Ma- 
rien-legenden  (Stuttgart,  1846),  No  xi  and 
p.  269.  A  rose  springs  from  the  grave  and 

et  la  eompterent  au  roy  Marc.  Le  roy  la  fist  couper  par 
troys  foys,  et  quant  il  l’avoit  le  jour  fait  couper,  lelendemain 
estoit  aussi  belle  comme  avoit  aultre  fois  este.  Fol.  cxxiv, 
as  cited  by  Braga,  Rom.  Ger.,  p.  185. 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


99 


roots  in  the  heart  of  a  knight  who  had  spared 
the  honor  of  a  maid  because  her  name  was 
Mary :  Ungei’,  No  clvi,  Hagen’s  Gesammt- 
abenteuer,  lxxiii.  Roses  inscribed  Maria  grow 
from  the  mouth,  eyes,  and  ears  of  a  monk: 
Unger,  cxxxvii  ;  and  a  lily  grows  over  a  monk’s 
grave,  springing  from  his  mouth,  every  leaf 
of  which  bears  Ave  Maria  in  golden  letters  : 
Unger,  cxxxviii ;  Gesammtabenteuer,  lxxxviii ; 
Libro  de  Exenplos,  Romania,  1878,  p.  509,  43, 
44  ;  etc.,  etc. 

No  one  can  fail  to  be  reminded  of  the  pur¬ 
ple,  lily-shaped  flower,  inscribed  with  the 
mournful  AI  AI,  that  rose  from  the  blood  of 
Hyacinthus,  and  of  the  other  from  the  blood 
of  Ajax,  with  the  same  letters,  “  his  name  and 
eke  his  plaint,”  haac  nominis,  ilia  querellae. 
(Ovid,  Met.  x,  210  ff ;  xiii,  394  ff.)  The 
northern  lindens  have  their  counterpart  in  the 
elms  from  the  grave  of  Protesilaus,  and  in  the 
trees  into  which  Philemon  and  Baucis  were 
transformed.  See,  upon  the  whole  subject,  the 
essay  of  Ivoberstein  in  the  Weimar  Jahrbuch, 
I,  73  ff,  with  Kohler’s  supplement,  p.  479  ff; 
Grimm,  Deutsche  Mythologie,  n,  689  f,  and 
hi,  246. 

“  The  ballad  of  the  ‘  Douglas  Tragedy,’  ” 
says  Scott,  “  is  one  of  the  few  to  which  pop¬ 
ular  tradition  has  ascribed  complete  locality. 
The  farm  of  Blackhouse,  in  Selkirkshire,  is 
said  to  have  been  the  scene  of  this  melancholy 
event.  There  are  the  remains  of  a  very  an¬ 


cient  tower,  adjacent  to  the  farm-house,  in  a 
wild  and  solitary  glen,  npon  a  torrent  named 
Douglas  burn,  which  joins  the  Yarrow  after 
passing  a  craggy  rock  called  the  Douglas 
craig.  .  .  .  From  this  ancient  tower  Lady 
Mai’garet  is  said  to  have  been  carried  by  her 
lover.  Seven  large  stones,  erected  upon  the 
neighboring  heights  of  Blackhouse,  are  shown, 
as  marking  the  spot  where  the  seven  brethren 
were  slain  ;  and  the  Douglas  burn  is  averred 
to  have  been  the  stream  at  which  the  lovers 
stopped  to  drink  :  so  minute  is  tradition  in 
ascertaining  the  scene  of  a  tragical  tale,  which, 
considering  the  rude  state  of  former  times, 
had  probably  foundation  in  some  real  event.” 

The  localities  of  the  Danish  story  were  as¬ 
certained,  to  her  entire  satisfaction,  by  Anne 
Krabbe  in  1605-6,  and  are  given  again  in  Re¬ 
sen’s  Atlas  Danicus,  1677.  See  Grundtvig, 
ii,  342  f. 

B,  Scott’s  ‘  Douglas  Tragedy,’  is  translated 
by  Grnndtvig,  Engelske  og  skotske  Folke- 
viser,  No  11  ;  Afzelius,  ill,  86  ;  Schubart,  p. 
159  ;  Talvj,  p.  565  ;  Wolff,  Halle,  I,  76,  Haus- 
schatz,  p.  201;  Rosa  Warrens,  No  23;  Ger¬ 
hard,  p.  28 ;  Loeve  Veimars,  p.  292. 

‘  Ribold  og  Guldborg,’  Danish  B,  is  translated 
by  Buchanan,  p.  16  (loosely)  ;  G  by  Jamie¬ 
son,  Illustrations,  p.  317,  and  Prior,  n,  400  ; 
T  by  Prior,  II,  407  ;  Swedish  A,  For.  Quart. 
Rev.,  xxv,  41.  ‘  Hildebrand  og  Hilde,’  Dan¬ 

ish  A,  B,  F,  H,  by  Prior,  n,  411-20. 


A 

a,  b,  from  the  papers  of  the  late  Robert  White,  Esq.,  of 
Newcastle-on-Tyne :  c,  R.  Bell,  Ancient  Poems,  Ballads,  etc. 
(1857),  p.  122  :  d,  fragmentary  lines  as  remembered  by  Mrs 
Andrews,  Mr  White’s  sister,  from  her  mother’s  singing. 

1  Oh  did  ye  ever  hear  o  brave  Earl  Bran  ? 

Ay  lally,  o  lilly  lally 

He  courted  the  king’s  daughter  of  fair  Eng¬ 
land. 

All  i  the  night  sae  early 


3  ‘  O  Earl  Bran,  fain  wad  I  see 

A  pack  of  hounds  let  loose  on  the  lea.’ 

4  ‘  O  lady,  I  have  no  steeds  but  one, 

And  thou  shalt  ride,  and  I  will  run.’ 

5  ‘  O  Earl  Bran,  my  father  has  two, 

And  thou  shall  have  the  best  o  them  a.’ 

6  They  have  ridden  oer  moss  and  moor, 
And  they  met  neither  rich  nor  poor. 


2  She  was  scarcely  fifteen  years  of  age 
Till  sae  boldly  she  came  to  his  bedside. 


7  Until  they  met  with  old  Carl  Hood ; 
He  comes  for  ill,  but  never  for  good. 


100 


EARL  BRAND 


8  ‘  Earl  Bran,  if  ye  love  me, 

Seize  this  old  carl,  and  gar  him  die.’ 

9  ‘  0  lady  fair,  it  wad  be  sair, 

To  slay  an  old  man  that  has  grey  hair. 

10  ‘0  lady  fair,  I  ’ll  no  do  sae  ; 

I  ’ll  gie  him  a  pound,  and  let  him  gae.’ 

11  ‘  O  where  hae  ye  ridden  this  lee  lang  day  ? 
Or  where  hae  ye  stolen  this  lady  away  ?  ’ 

12  1 1  have  not  ridden  this  lee  lang  day. 

Nor  yet  have  I  stolen  this  lady  away. 

13  ‘  She  is  my  only,  my  sick  sister, 

Whom  I  have  brought  from  Winchester.’ 

14  ‘  If  she  be  sick,  and  like  to  dead, 

Why  wears  she  the  ribbon  sae  red  ? 

15  ‘  If  she  he  sick,  and  like  to  die, 

Then  why  wears  she  the  gold  on  high  ?  ’ 

16  When  he  came  to  this  lady’s  gate, 

Sae  rudely  as  he  rapped  at  it. 

17  1  0  where ’s  the  lady  o  this  ha  ?  ’ 

‘  She ’s  out  with  her  maids  to  play  at  the  ba.’ 

18  ‘  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  ye  are  a’  mistaen : 

Gae  count  your  maidens  oer  again. 

19  ‘  I  saw  her  far  beyond  the  moor, 

Away  to  he  the  Earl  o  Bran’s  whore.’ 

20  The  father  armed  fifteen  of  his  best  men, 

To  bring  his  daughter  back  again. 


B 

Scott’s  Minstrelsy,  in,  246,  ed.  1803;  in,  6,  ed.  1833  :  the 
copy  principally  used  supplied  by  Mr  Sharpe,  the  three  last 
stanzas  from  a  penny  pamphlet  and  from  tradition. 

1  ‘  Rise  up,  rise  up,  now,  Lord  Douglas,’  she  says, 

‘  And  put  on  your  armour  so  bright ; 

Let  it  never  be  said  that  a  daughter  of  thine 
W as  married  to  a  lord  under  night. 

2  ‘  Rise  up,  rise  up,  my  seven  bold  sons, 

And  put  on  your  armour  so  bright, 


21  Oer  her  left  shoulder  the  lady  looked  then  : 

‘  O  Earl  Bran,  we  both  are  tane.’ 

22  ‘  If  they  come  on  me  ane  by  ane, 

Ye  may  stand  by  and  see  them  slain. 

23  ‘  But  if  they  come  on  me  one  and  all, 

Ye  may  stand  by  and  see  me  fall.’ 

24  They  have  come  on  him  ane  by  ane, 

And  he  has  killed  them  all  hut  ane. 

25  And  that  ane  came  behind  his  hack, 

And  he ’s  gien  him  a  deadly  whack. 

26  But  for  a’  sae  wounded  as  Earl  Bran  was, 

He  has  set  his  lady  on  her  horse. 

27  They  rode  till  they  came  to  the  water  o  Doune, 
And  then  he  alighted  to  wash  his  wounds. 

28  ‘  O  Earl  Bran,  I  see  your  heart’s  blood  !  ’ 

‘  T  is  but  the  gleat  o  my  scarlet  hood.’ 

29  They  rode  till  they  came  to  his  mother’s  gate, 
And  sae  rudely  as  he  rapped  at  it. 

30  ‘  O  my  son ’s  slain,  my  son ’s  put  down, 

And  a’  for  the  sake  of  an  English  loun.’ 

31  ‘  O  say  not  sae,  my  dear  mother, 

But  marry  her  to  my  youngest  brother. 

AZ.  AX.  _XA. 

"TV  TV  ‘7V  -7V  TV 

32  ‘  This  has  not  been  the  death  o  ane, 

But  it ’s  been  that  of  fair  seventeen.’ 

*  #  *  #  * 


And  take  better  care  of  your  youngest  sister, 
For  your  eldest  js  awa  the  last  night.’ 

3  He ’s  mounted  her  on  a  milk-white  steed, 

And  himself  on  a  dapple  grey, 

With  a  hugelet  horn  hung  down  by  his  side, 
And  lightly  they  rode  away. 

4  Lord  William  lookit  oer  his  left  shoulder, 

To  see  what  he  could  see, 

And  there  he  spy’d  her  seven  brethren  bold, 
Come  riding  over  the  lee. 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


101 


5  ‘  Light  down,  light  down,  Lady  Margret,’  he 

said, 

‘  And  hold  my  steed  in  your  hand, 

Until  that  against  your  seven  brethren  bold, 
And  your  father,  I  male  a  stand.’ 

6  She  held  his  steed  in  her  milk-white  hand, 

And  never  shed  one  tear, 

Until  that  she  saw  her  seven  brethren  fa, 

And  her  father  hard  fighting,  who  lovd  her 
so  dear. 

7  ‘ 0  hold  your  hand.  Lord  William  !  ’  she  said, 

‘  F or  your  strokes  they  are  wondrous  sair ; 
True  lovers  I  can  get  many  a  ane, 

But  a  father  I  can  never  get  mair.’ 

8  O  she ’s  taen  out  her  handkerchief, 

It  was  o  the  holland  sae  fine, 

And  aye  she  dighted  her  father’s  bloody 
wounds, 

That  were  redder  than  the  wine. 

9  ‘  0  chuse,  O  chuse,  Lady  Margret,’  he  said, 

‘  O  whether  will  ye  gang  or  bide  ?  ’ 

‘  I  ’ll  gang,  I  ’ll  gang,  Lord  William,’  she  said, 
‘  For  ye  have  left  me  no  other  guide.’ 

10  He ’s  lifted  her  on  a  milk-white  steed, 

And  himself  on  a  dapple  grey, 

With  a  bugelet  horn  hung  down  by  his  side, 
And  slowly  they  baith  rade  away. 

11  O  they  rade  on,  and  on  they  rade, 

And  a’  by  the  light  of  the  moon, 

Until  they  came  to  yon  wan  water, 

And  there  they  lighted  down. 

12  They  lighted  down  to  tak  a  drink 

.  Of  the  spring  that  ran  sae  clear, 

And  down  the  stream  ran  his  gude  heart’s  blood, 
And  sair  she  gan  to  fear. 


c 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  502.  From  the  recitation  of  Mrs 
Notman. 

1  ‘  Rise  up,  rise  up,  my  seven  brave  sons, 

And  dress  in  your  armour  so  bright ; 

Earl  Douglas  will  hae  Lady  Margaret  awa 
Before  that  it  be  light. 


13  ‘Hold  up,  hold  up.  Lord  William,’  she  says, 

‘For  I  fear  that  you  are  slain  ;  ’ 

‘  ’T  is  naething  but  the  shadow  of  my  scarlet 
cloak, 

That  shines  in  the  water  sae  plain.’ 

14  O  they  rade  on,  and  on  they  rade, 

And  a’  by  the  light  of  the  moon. 

Until  they  cam  to  his  mother’s  ha  door, 

And  there  they  lighted  down. 

15  ‘  Get  up,  get  up,  lady  mother,’  he  says, 

‘  Get  up,  and  let  me  in  ! 

Get  up,  get  up,  lady  mother,’  he  says, 

‘  For  this  night  my  fair  lady  I ’ve  win. 

16  ‘  0  mak  my  bed,  lady  mother,’  he  says, 

‘  0  mak  it  braid  and  deep, 

And  lay  Lady  Margret  close  at  my  back, 

And  the  sounder  I  will  sleep.’ 

17  Lord  William  was  dead  lang  ere  midnight, 

Lady  Margret  lang  ere  day, 

And  all  true  lovers  that  go  thegither, 

May  they  have  mair  luck  than  they ! 

18  Lord  William  was  buried  in  St.  Mary’s 

kirk, 

Lady  Margret  in  Mary’s  quire  ; 

Out  o  the  lady’s  grave  grew  a  bonny  red  rose, 
And  out  o  the  knight’s  a  briar. 

19  And  they  twa  met,  and  they  twa  plat, 

And  fain  they  wad  be  near ; 

And  a’  the  warld  might  ken  right  weel 
They  were  twa  lovers  dear. 

20  But  bye  and  rade  the  Black  Douglas, 

And  wow  but  he  was  rough  ! 

For  he  pulld  up  the  bonny  brier, 

And  flang ’t  in  St.  Mary’s  Loch. 


2  ‘  Arise,  arise,  my  seven  brave  sons, 

And  dress  in  your  armour  so  bright ; 

It  shall  never  be  said  that  a  daughter  of 
mine 

Shall  go  with  an  earl  or  a  knight.’ 

3  ‘  0  will  ye  stand,  fair  Margaret,’  he  says, 

‘  And  hold  my  milk-white  steed, 


102 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


Till  I  fight  your  father  and  seven  brethren, 

In  yonder  pleasant  mead  ?  ’ 

4  She  stood  and  held  his  milk-white  steed, 

She  stood  trembling  with  fear, 

Until  she  saw  her  seven  brethren  fall, 

And  her  father  that  loved  her  dear. 

5  ‘  Hold  your  hand,  Earl  Douglas,’  she  says, 

£  Your  strokes  are  wonderous  sail- ; 

I  may  get  sweethearts  again  enew, 

But  a  father  I  ’ll  ne’er  get  mair.’ 

6  She  took  out  a  handkerchief 

Was  made  o’  the  cambrick  fine, 

And  aye  she  wiped  her  father’s  bloody  wounds, 
And  the  blood  sprung  up  like  wine. 

7  ‘  Will  ye  go,  fair  Margaret  ?  ’  he  said, 

‘  Will  ye  now  go,  or  bide  ?  ’ 

‘Yes,  I’ll  go,  sweet  William,’  she  said, 

‘  For  ye ’ve  left  me  never  a  guide. 

8  ‘  If  I  were  to  go  to  my  mother’s  house, 

A  welcome  guest  I  would  he  ; 

But  for  the  bloody  deed  that ’s  done  this  day 
I  ’ll  rather  go  with  thee.’ 

9  He  lifted  her  on  a  milk-white  steed 

And  himself  on  a  dapple  gray ; 

They  drew  their  hats  out  over  their  face, 

And  they  both  went  weeping  away. 

10  They  rode,  they  rode,  and  they  better  rode, 

Till  they  came  to  yon  water  wan  ; 

They  lighted  down  to  gie  their  horse  a  drink 
Out  of  the  running  stream. 

11  ‘  I  am  afraid,  Earl  Douglas.’  she  said, 

‘  I  am  afraid  ye  are  slain  ;  ’ 

D 

Kinloch  MSS,  i,  327. 

1  ‘  Sleepst  thou  or  wakst  thou,  Lord  Montgom¬ 

erie, 

Sleepst  thou  or  wakst  thou,  I  say  ? 

Rise  up,  make  a  match  for  your  eldest  daugh¬ 
ter, 

For  the  youngest  I  carry  away.’ 

2  ‘  Rise  up,  rise  up,  my  seven  bold  sons, 

Dress  yourselves  in  the  armour  sae  fine  ; 


I  think  I  see  your  bonny  heart’s  blood 
Running  down  the  water  wan.’ 

12  ‘  Oh  no,  oh  no,  fair  Margaret,’  he  said, 

‘  Oh  no,  I  am  not  slain  ; 

It  is  hut  the  scad  of  my  scarlet  cloak 
Runs  down  the  water  wan.’ 

13  He  mounted  her  on  a  milk-white  steed 

And  himself  on  a  dapple  gray, 

And  they  have  reached  Earl  Douglas’  gates 
Before  the  break  of  day. 

14  ‘  0  rise,  dear  mother,  and  make  my  bed, 

And  make  it  braid  and  wide, 

And  lay  me  down  to  take  my  rest, 

And  at  my  back  my  bride.’ 

15  She  has  risen  and  made  his  bed, 

She  made  it  braid  and  wide  ; 

She  laid  him  down  to  take  his  rest, 

And  at  his  back  his  bride. 

16  Lord  William  died  ere  it  was  day, 

Lady  Margaret  on  the  morrow  ; 

Lord  William  died  through  loss  of  blood  and 
wounds, 

Fair  Margaret  died  with  sorrow. 

17  The  one  was  bulled  in  Mary’s  kirk, 

The  other  in  Mary’s  quire  ; 

The  one  sprung  up  a  bonnie  hush, 

And  the  other  a  bonny  brier. 

18  These  twa  grew,  and  these  twa  threw, 

Till  they  came  to  the  top, 

And  when  they  could  na  farther  gae, 

They  coost  the  lovers’  knot. 


For  it  ne’er  shall  he  said  that  a  churlish  knight 
Eer  married  a  daughter  of  mine.’ 

-it* 

"7V  Tr  Tv  Tv  *Jv 

3  ‘  Loup  aff,  loup  alf,  Lady  Margaret,’  he  said. 

‘  And  hold  my  steed  in  your  hand, 

And  I  will  go  fight  your  seven  brethren, 

And  your  father,  where  they  stand.’ 

4  Sometimes  she  gaed,  sometimes  she  stood, 

But  never  dropt  a  tear, 

Until  she  saw  her  brethren  all  slain. 

And  her  father  who  lovd  her  so  dear. 


EARL  BRAND 


103 


5  ‘  Hol«l  thy  hand,  sweet  William,’  she  says, 

‘  Thy  blows  are  wondrous  sore  ; 

Sweethearts  I  may  have  many  a  one, 

But  a  father  I  ’ll  never  have  more.’ 

G  0  she ’s  taken  her  napkin  frae  her  pocket, 

Was  made  o  the  holland  tine, 

And  ay  as  she  dichted  her  father’s  bloody 
wounds, 

They  sprang  as  red  as  the  wine. 

7  ‘  Two  chooses,  two  chooses,  Lady  Margret,’ 

he  says, 

‘  Two  chooses  I  ’ll  make  thee  ; 

Whether  to  go  back  to  your  mother  again, 

Or  go  along  with  me.’ 

8  ‘  For  to  go  home  to  my  mother  again, 

An  unwelcome  guest  I ’d  be  ; 

But  since  my  fate  has  ordered  it  so, 

I  ’ll  go  along  with  thee.’ 


E 

Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  p.  180.  From  recitation. 

1  He  has  lookit  over  his  left  shoulder, 

And  through  his  bonnie  bridle  rein, 

And  he  spy’d  her  father  and  her  seven  bold 
brethren, 

Come  riding  down  the  glen. 

2  ‘  O  hold  my  horse,  Lady  Margret,’  he  said, 

O  hold  my  horse  by  the  bonnie  bridle  rein, 
Till  I  fight  your  father  and  seven  bold  breth¬ 
ren, 

As  they  come  riding  down  the  glen.’ 

3  Some  time  she  rade,  and  some  time  she  gaed, 

Till  she  that  place  did  near, 


9  He  has  mounted  her  on  a  milk-white  steed, 
Himself  on  the  dapple  gray, 

And  blawn  his  horn  baith  loud  and  shill, 

And  it  sounded  far  on  their  way. 

10  They  rode  oer  hill,  they  rode  oer  dale, 

They  rode  oer  mountains  so  high, 

Until  they  came  to  that  beautiful  place 
"Where  Sir  William’s  mother  did  lie. 

11  ‘  Rise  up,  rise  up,  lady  mother,’  he  said, 

‘  Rise  up,  and  make  much  o  your  own  ; 

Rise  up,  rise  up,  lady  mother,’  he  said, 

‘  For  his  bride ’s  just  new  come  home.’ 

12  Sir  William  he  died  in  the  middle  o  the  night, 

Lady  Margaret  died  on  the  morrow  ; 

Sir  William  he  died  of  pure  pure  love, 

Lady  Margaret  of  grief  and  sorrow. 


And  there  she  spy’d  her  seven  bold  brethren 
slain, 

And  her  father  who  loved  her  so  dear. 

4  ‘  0  hold  your  hand,  sweet  William,’  she  said, 

‘  Your  bull  baits  are  wondrous  sail* ; 
Sweet-hearts  I  may  get  many  a  one, 

But  a  father  I  will  never  get  mair.’ 

5  She  has  taken  a  napkin  from  off  her  neck; 

That  was  of  the  cambrick  so  fine, 

And  aye  as  she  wiped  her  father’s  bloody 
wounds, 

The  blood  ran  red  as  the  wine. 
***** 

6  He  set  her  upon  the  milk-white  steed, 

Himself  upon  the  brown  ; 

He  took  a  horn  out  of  his  pocket, 

And  they  both  went  weeping  along. 


F 

Percy  MS.,  p.  57  ;  ed.  Hales  and  Furnivall,  i,  133. 

1. . 

Sayes  ‘  Christ  thee  saue,  good  Child  of  Ell ! 
Christ  saue  thee  and  thy  steede ! 


2  ‘  My  father  sayes  he  will  [eat]  noe  meate, 

Nor  his  drinke  shall  doe  him  noe  good, 
Till  he  liaue  slaine  the  Child  of  Ell, 

And  haue  seene  his  harts  blood.’ 

3  ‘  I  wold  I  were  in  my  sadle  sett, 

And  a  mile  out  of  the  towne ; 


104 


7.  EARL  BRAND 


I  did  not  care  for  your  father 
And  all  his  merry  men  ! 

4  ‘  I  wold  I  were  in  my  sadle  sett, 

And  a  little  space  him  froe ; 

I  did  not  care  for  your  father 
And  all  that  long  him  to  !  ’ 

5  He  leaned  ore  his  saddle  how 

To  ldsse  this  lady  good  ; 

The  teares  that  went  them  two  betweene 
Were  blend  water  and  blood. 

6  He  sett  himselfe  on  one  good  steed, 

This  lady  on  a  palfray, 

And  sett  his  litle  home  to  his  mouth, 
And  roundlie  he  rode  away. 

7  He  had  not  ridden  past  a  mile, 

A  mile  out  of  the  towne, 


8  Her  father  was  readye  with  her  seuen  brether, 

He  said,  ‘  Sett  thou  my  daughter  downe  ! 

For  it  ill  beseemes  thee,  thou  false  churles 
sonne, 

To  carry  her  forth  of  this  towne  !  ’ 

9  ‘  But  lowd  thou  lyest,  Sir  Iohn  the  'knight, 

Thou  now  doest  lye  of  me  ; 

A  knight  me  gott,  and  a  lady  me  bore ; 

Soe  neuer  did  none  by  thee. 

10  1  But  light  now  downe,  my  lady  gay, 

Light  downe  and  hold  my  horsse, 

Wildest  I  and  yottr  father  and  your  brether 
Doe  play  vs  at  this  crosse. 

11  ‘  But  light  now  downe,  my  owne  trew  loue, 

And  meeklye  hold  my  steede, 

Wildest  your  father  [and  your  seuen  brether] 
bold 

#  *  *  *  * 


A.  a,  b.  Obtained  from  recitation  “  many  years 
ago,”  wrote  Mr  White  in  1873,  by  James  Tel- 
fer,  of  Laughtree  Liddesdale,  in  some  part  of 
the  neighboring  country :  the  copy  has  the  date 
1818.  c  is  said  by  the  editor  to  have  been  taken 
down  from  the  recitation  of  an  old  fiddler  in 
Northumberland,  but  when  and  by  whom  he 
does  not  tell  us.  The  three  are  clearly  more 
or  less  “  corrected  ”  copies  of  the  same  original, 
c  having  suffered  most  from  arbitrary  changes. 
Alterations  for  rhyme's  sake,  or  for  propriety' s, 
that  are  written  above  the  lines  or  in  the  mar¬ 
gin  of  a  2,  5,  8,  19,  are  adopted  in  c  without 
advertisement. 

Burden,  b.  I  the  brave  night  sae  early :  c.  I 
the  brave  nights  so  early :  d.  I  (or  0)  the 
life  o  the  one,  the  randy. 

I1.  c.  Brand,  and  always  in  c.  I2.  a.  daugh¬ 
ters.  b.  He ’s  courted. 

21.  c.  years  that  tide ;  that  tide  is  written 
over  of  age  in  a.  22.  c.  When  sae. 

42.  c.  But  thou. 

52.  b.  best  o  these,  c.  best  of  tho.  of  tho 
is  written  over  o  them  a  in  a. 

62.  b,  c.  have  met. 

71.  c.  Till  at  last  they  met.  72.  c.  He ’s  aye  for 
dl  and  never. 


81.  b.  0  Earl  Bran.  c.  Now  Earl  Brand.  Now 
in  the  margin  of  a.  82.  b,  c.  Slay  this. 

92.  b.  man  that  wears,  c.  carl  that  wears,  carl 
.  .  wears  written  over  man  .  .  has  in  a. 

10.  b.  O  lady  fair,  I  ’ll  no  do  that, 

I  ’ll  pay  him  penny,  let  him  be  jobbing 
at. 

c.  My  own  lady  fair,  I  ’U  not  do  that, 

I  ’ll  pay  him  his  fee 

ll2.  b.  where  have  stoln  this  fair.  c.  And 
where  have  ye  stown  this  fair. 

13.  b.  She  is  my  sick  sister, 

Which  I  newly  brought  from  Winches¬ 
ter. 

c.  For  she  is,  I  trow,  my  sick  sister, 

Whom  I  have  been  bringing  fra  Win¬ 
chester. 

141.  c.  nigh  to  dead.  2.  b,  c.  What  makes  her 
wear. 

151.  c.  If  she ’s  been.  2.  b,  c.  What  makes  her 
wear  the  gold  sae  high. 

161.  c.  When  came  the  carl  to  the  lady’s  yett. 
2.  b.  rapped  at.  c.  He  rudely,  rudely  rapped 
thereat. 

172.  b.  maids  playen.  c.  a  playing,  d.  She ’s 
out  with  the  fair  maids  playing  at  the  ball. 


7.  EAltL  BRAND 


105 


181.  b.  mistkane  (  ?)  :  2.  b,  c.  Ye  may  count. 
b2.  young  Earl. 

19.  c.  I  met  her  far  beyond  the  lea 

With  the  young  Earl  Brand,  his  leman 
to  be  : 

In  a  lea  is  written  over  moor,  and 
With  the  young,  etc.,  stands  as  a 
“  correction .” 

20.  b.  Her  father,  etc., 

And  they  have  riden  after  them, 
c.  Her  father  of  his  best  men  armed  fif¬ 
teen, 

And  they  ’re  ridden  after  them  bi- 
dene. 

211.  b,  c.  The  lady  looket  [looked]  over 
[owre]  her  left  shoulder  then. 
221.  b,  c.  If  they  come  on  me  one  by  one, 

2.  b.  Ye  may  stand  by  and  see  them  fall. 

c.  You  may  stand  by  till  the  fights  be 

done. 

d.  Then  I  will  slay  them  every  one. 

231.  b.  all  in  all.  d.  all  and  all. 

2.  d.  Then  you  will  see  me  the  sooner  fall. 
242.  b.  has  slain. 

24.  c.  They  came  upon  him  one  by  one, 

Till  fourteen  battles  he  lias  won. 

And  fourteen  men  he  has  them  slain, 
Each  after  each  upon  the  plain. 

25.  c.  But  the  fifteenth  man  behind  stole 

round, 

And  dealt  him  a  deep  and  a  deadly 
wound. 

26.  c.  Though  he  was  wounded  to  the  deid, 

He  set  his  lady  on  her  steed. 

271.  c.  river  Doune  :  2.  b.  And  he  lighted 

down.  c.  And  there  they  lighted  to  wash 
his  wound.  ^ 

282.  b.  It ’s  but  the  glent. 

c.  It ’s  nothing  but  the  glent  and  my  scar¬ 
let  hood. 

291.  c.  yett. 

292.  b.  Sae  ruddly  as  he  rappet  at. 

c.  So  faint  and  feebly  he  rapped  thereat. 
30 h  b.  O  my  son ’s  slain  and  cut  down. 

c.  0  my  son ’s  slain,  he  is  falling  to  swoon. 
14 


32.  b.  .  .  .  death  of  only  one, 

But  it ’s  been  the  death  of  fair  seventeen. 
Instead  of  32,  c  has  : 

To  a  maiden  true  he  ’ll  give  his  hand, 

To  the  king’s  daughter  o  fair  England, 

To  a  prize  that  was  won  by  a  slain  brother’s 
brand. 

B.  3.  A  stanza  resembling  this  is  found  in  Beau¬ 
mont  and  Fletcher's  ‘  Knight  of  the  Burning 
Pestle'  (1611),  Dyce,  n,  172,  but  may  belong 
to  some  other  ballad,  as  1  The  Knight  and  Shep¬ 
herd’s  Daughter  :  ’ 

He  set  her  on  a  milk-white  steed, 

And  himself  upon  a  grey  ; 

He  never  turned  his  face  again, 

But  he  bore  her  quite  away. 

84.  ware.  181.  Marie.  204.  flang’d. 

C.  123.  MS.  scad. 

D.  10.  The  following  stanza,  superscribed  “  Mrs 
Lindores,  Kelso,”  was  found  among  Mr  Kin- 
lock's  papers,  and  was  inserted  at  i,  331,  of 
the  Kinlock  MSS.  It  may  be  a  first  recollec¬ 
tion  of  D  10,  but  is  more  likely  to  be  another 
version  : 

‘  We  raid  over  hill  and  we  raid  over  dale, 
And  we  raid  over  mountains  sae  high, 
Until  we  cam  in  sicht  o  yon  bonnie  castle 
bowr 

Whare  Sir  William  Arthur  did  lie.’ 

E.  5-6.  “  Two  stanzas  are  here  omitted,  in  which 
Lord  William  offers  her  the  choice  of  return¬ 
ing  to  her  mother,  or  of  accompanying  him  ; 
and  the  ballad  concludes  ivith  this  [  the  6 tK] 
stanza,  which  is  twice  repeated  in  singing." 
Motherwell' s  preface. 

F.  34.  MS.  merrymen. 

62.  of  one  palfray. 

7,  8  are  written  in  one  stanza.  Half  a  page, 
or  about  nine  stanzas,  is  gone  after  st.  11. 


106 


8.  ERLINTON 


8 

ERLINTON 


A.  4  Erlinton,’  Scott’s  Minstrelsy,  nr,  235,  ed.  1803. 

B.  4  True  Tammas,’  Mr  R.  White’s  papers. 


C.  4  Robin  Hood  and  the  Tanner’s  Daughter,’  Gutch’s 
Robin  Hood,  n,  345. 


4  Erlinton  ’  (A)  first  appeared  in  the  Min¬ 
strelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  the  text  formed 
44  from  the  collation  of  two  copies  obtained 
from  recitation.”  B  is  a  manuscript  copy, 
furnished  by  the  late  Mr  Robert  White  of 
Newcastle,  and  was  probably  taken  down  from 
recitation  by  Mr  James  Telfer  early  in  the 
century.  C,  in  which  Robin  Hood  has  taken 
the  place  of  a  hero  who  had  at  least  connec¬ 
tions  out  of  Great  Britain,  was  first  printed 
in  Gutch’s  Robin  Hood,  from  a  manuscript  of 
Mr  Payne  Collier,  supposed  to  have  been 
written  about  1650. 

This  ballad  has  only  with  much  hesitation 
been  separated  from  the  foregoing.  In  this  as 
in  that,  a  man  induces  a  maid  to  go  off  with 
him ;  he  is  set  upon  by  a  party  of  fifteen  in 
A,  B,  as  in  7  A ;  and  he  spares  the  life  of  one 
of  his  assailants  [an  old  man,  A,  B,  the  younger 
brother,  C].  Some  agreements  as  to  details 
with  Scandinavian  Ribold  ballads  have  already 
been  noticed,  and  it  has  been  observed  that 
while  there  is  no  vestige  of  the  dead-naming 
in  ‘  Earl  Brand,’  there  is  an  obvious  trace  of 
it  in  4  Erlinton  ’  A,  B.  4  Erlinton  ’  A,  B  has 
also  one  other  correspondence  not  found  in 
‘  Earl  Brand,’  —  the  strict  watch  kept  over 
the  lady  (st.  2).  Even  the  bigly  bower,  ex¬ 
pressly  built  to  confine  her  in,  is  very  likely  a 
reminiscence  or  a  displacement  of  the  tower 
in  which  Hilde  is  shut  up,  after  her  elope¬ 
ment,  in  some  of  the  Scandinavian  ballads 
(Danish  83  A,  B  ;  Swedish  A,  dark  house). 
But  notwithstanding  these  resemblances  to 
the  Ribold  story,  there  is  a  difference  in  the 
larger  part  of  the  details,  and  all  the  4  Erlin¬ 
ton  ’  ballads  have  a  fortunate  conclusion,  which 
also  does  not  seem  forced,  as  it  does  in  Arwids- 
son,  107,  the  only  instance,  perhaps,  in  which 


a  fortunate  conclusion  in  a  Ribold  ballad  is  of 
the  least  account ;  for  Grundtvig’s  F,  G  are 
manifestly  copies  that  have  been  tampered 
with,  and  Landstad  34  is  greatly  confused  at 
the  close.  It  may  be  an  absolute  accident, 
but  4  Erlinton  ’  A,  B  has  at  least  one  point  of 
contact  with  the  story  of  Walter  of  Aqui- 
tania  which  is  not  found  in  4  Earl  Brand.’ 
This  story  requires  to  be  given  in  brief  on  ac¬ 
count  of  its  kinship  to  both. 

Walter,  with  his  betrothed  Hildegunde,  fly 
from  the  court  of  Attila,  at  which  they  have 
both  lived  as  hostages  since  their  childhood, 
taking  with  them  two  boxes  of  jewels.  Gun¬ 
ther,  king  of  Worms,  learns  that  a  knight  and 
lady,  with  a  richlyffaden  horse,  have  passed  the 
Rhine,  and  sets  out  in  pursuit,  with  twelve  of 
his  best  fighting  men,  resolved  to  capture  the 
treasure.  The  fugitives,  after  a  very  long 
ride,  make  a  halt  in  a  forest,  and  Walter 
goes  to  sleep  with  his  head  on  Hildegunde’s 
knees.  The  lady  meanwhile  keeps  watch,  and 
rouses  her  lover  when  she  perceives  by  the 
dust  they  raise  that  horsemen  are  approach¬ 
ing.  Gunther'sends  one  of  his  knights  with  a 
message  demanding  the  surrender  of  the  treas¬ 
ure.  Walter  scornfully  refuses,  but  expresses 
a  willingness  to  make  the  king  a  present  of  a 
hundred  bracelets,  or  rings,  of  red  gold,  in 
token  of  his  respect.  The  messenger  is  sent 
back  with  directions  to  take  the  treasure  by 
force,  if  it  should  be  refused  again.  Walter, 
having  vainly  offered  a  present  of  two  hundred 
bracelets  to  avoid  a  conflict,  is  attacked  by  the 
knight,  whom  he  slays.  Ten  others  go  the 
way  of  this  first,  and  only  the  king  and  one  of 
his  troop,  IRigen,  a  very  distinguished  knight 
and  an  old  comrade  of  Walter,  remain. 
These  now  attack  Walter;  the  combat  is  long 


8.  ERLINTON 


107 


and  fierce;  all  three  are  seriously  wounded, 
and  finally  so  exhausted  as  to  be  forced  to 
cease  fighting.  Walter  and  Hagen  enter  into 
a  friendly  talk  while  refreshing  themselves 
with  wine,  and  in  the  end  Gunther  *  is  put  on 
a  horse  and  conducted  home  by  Hagen,  while 
Walter  and  Hildegunde  continue  their  jour¬ 
ney  to  Aquitania.  There  they  were  married 
and  ruled  thirty  happy  years.  (‘  Waltharius,’ 
ed.  R.  Peiper,  1873.) 

The  particular  resemblances  of  ‘Erlinton’ 
A,  B  to  ‘Walter’  are  that  the  assailants  are 
“  bold  knights,’’  or  “  bravest  outlaws,”  not  the 
lady’s  kinsmen ;  that  there  are  two  parleys 
before  the  fight ;  and  that  the  hero  survives 
the  fight  and  goes  off  with  his  love.  The  ut¬ 
most  that  could  be  insisted  on  is  that  some 
features  of  the  story  of  Walter  have  been 
blended  in  the  course  of  tradition  with  the 


kindred  story  of  Ribold.  ‘Erlinton  ’  C  is  much 
less  like  ‘  Walter,’  and  more  like  ‘  Ribold.’ 

The  ‘  Sultan’s  Fair  Daughter,’  translated 
by  Aigner,  Ungarische  Volksdichtungen,  p. 
93,  2d  ed.,  has  perhaps  derived  something 
from  the  Walter  story.  Two  Magyars  escape 
from  the  Sultan’s  prison  by  the  aid  of  his 
daughter,  under  promise  of  taking  her  to  Hun¬ 
gary.  She  often  looks  backwards,  fearing  pur¬ 
suit.  At  last  a  large  band  overtake  them. 
One  of  the  Magyars  guards  the  lady  ;  the  other 
assaults  the  Turks,  of  whom  he  leaves  only 
one  alive,  to  carry  back  information.  One  of 
the  two  has  a  love  at  home  ;  the  other  takes 
the  Sultan’s  daughter. 

‘  Erlinton  ’  is  translated  by  Rosa  Warrens, 
Schottische  Volkslieder,  No  24,  and  by  Karl 
Knortz,  Schottische  Balladen,  No  12. 


A 

Scott’s  Minstrelsy,  hi,  235,  ed.  1803;  ed.  1833,  n,  353. 
Made  up  from  two  copies  obtained  from  recitation. 

1  Erlixtox  had  a  fair  daughter  ; 

I  wat  he  weird  her  in  a  great  sin  ; 

For  he  has  built  a  bigly  bower, 

An  a’  to  put  that  lady  in. 

2  An  he  has  warnd  her  sisters  six, 

An  sae  has  he  her  brethren  se’en, 

Outlier  to  watch  her  a’  the  night, 

Or  else  to  seek  her  morn  an  een. 

3  She  hadna  been  i  that  bigly  bower 

Na  not  a  night  but  barely  ane, 

Till  there  was  Willie,  her  ain  true  love, 

Chappd  at  the  door,  cryin  ‘  Peace  within !  ’ 

4  ‘  0  whae  is  this  at  my  bower  door, 

That  chaps  sae  late,  nor  kens  the  gin  ?  ’ 

‘  O  it  is  Willie,  your  ain  true  love, 

I  pray  you  rise  an  let  me  in  !  ’ 

*  Gunther,  as  well  remarked  by  Klee,  ‘  Zur  Hildesage,’  p. 
19,  cannot  have  belonged  originally  to  the  Hildegunde  saga. 
No  sufficient  motive  is  furnished  for  introducing  him.  In 
the  Polish  version  of  the  story  there  is  only  one  pursuer. 


5  ‘  But  in  my  bower  there  is  a  wake, 

An  at  the  wake  there  is  a  wane  ; 

But  I  ’ll  come  to  the  green-wood  the  morn, 
Whar  blooms  the  brier,  by  mornin  dawn.’ 

6  Then  she ’s  gane  to  her  bed  again, 

Where  she  has  layen  till  the  cock  crew 
thrice, 

Then  she  said  to  her  sisters  a’, 

‘  Maidens,  ’t  is  time  for  us  to  rise.’ 

7  She  pat  on  her  back  her  silken  gown, 

An  on  her  breast  a  siller  pin, 

An  she ’s  tane  a  sister  in  ilka  hand, 

An  to  the  green-wood  she  is  gane. 

8  She  hadna  walkd  in  the  green-wood 

Na  not  a  mile  but  barely  ane, 

Till  there  was  Willie,  her  ain  true  love, 

Whae  frae  her  sisters  has  her  taen. 

9  He  took  her  sisters  by  the  hand, 

He  kissd  them  baith,  an  sent  them  hame, 

ArinolduS,  whom  Walter  slays.  Rischka,  Verhaltniss  der 
polnischen  Sage  von  Walgierz  Wdaly  zu  den  deutschen 
Sagen  von  W.  v.  Aquitanien,'p.  8  ff. 


108 


8.  ERLINTON 


An  he ’s  taen  his  true  love  him  behind, 

And  through  the  green-wood  they  are  gane. 

10  They  hadna  ridden  in  the  bonnie  green-wood 

Na  not  a  mile  but  barely  ane, 

When  there  came  fifteen  o  the  boldest  knights 
That  ever  bare  flesh,  blood,  or  bane. 

11  The  foremost  was  an  aged  knight, 

He  wore  the  grey  hair  on  his  chin  : 

Says,  ‘  Yield  to  me  thy  lady  bright, 

An  thou  shalt  walk  the  woods  within.’ 

12  ‘For  me  to  yield  my  lady  bright 

To  such  an  aged  knight  as  thee, 

People  wad  think  I  war  gane  mad, 

Or  a’  the  courage  flown  frae  me.’ 

13  But  up  then  spake  the  second  knight, 

I  wat  he  spake  right  boustouslie : 

‘  Yield  me  thy  life,  or  thy  lady  bright, 

Or  here  the  tane  of  us  shall  die.’ 

14  ‘  My  lady  is  my  warld’s  meed ; 

My  life  I  winna  yield  to  nane  ; 


B 

MS.  of  Robert  White,  Esq.,  of  Newcastle,  from  James 
Telfer’s  collection. 

1  Thebe  was  a  knight,  an  he  had  a  daughter, 

An  he  wad  wed  her,  wi  muckle  sin ; 

Sae  he  has  biggit  a  bonnie  bower,  love, 

•  An  a’  to  keep  his  fair  daughter  in. 

2  But  she  hadna  been  in  the  bonnie  bower, 

‘  love, 

And  no  twa  hours  but  barely  ane, 

Till  up  started  Tammas,  her  ain  true  lover, 
And  0  sae  fain  as  he  wad  been  in. 

3  ‘  For  a’  sae  weel  as  I  like  ye,  Tammas, 

An  for  a’  sae  weel  as  I  like  the  gin, 

I  wadna  for  ten  thousand  pounds,  love, 

Na  no  this  night  wad  1  let  thee  in. 

4  ‘  But  yonder  is  a  bonnie  greenwud, 

An  in  the  greenwud  there  is  a  wauk, 

An  I  ’ll  be  there  an  sune  the  morn,  love, 

It ’s  a’  for  my  true  love’s  sake. 


But  if  ye  be  men  of  your  manhead, 

Ye  ’ll  only  fight  me  ane  by  ane.’ 

15  He  lighted  aff  his  milk-white  steed, 

An  gae  his  lady  him  by  the  head, 

Sayn,  ‘  See  ye  dinna  change  your  cheer, 
Untill  ye  see  my  body  bleed.’ 

16  He  set  his  back  unto  an  aik, 

He  set  his  feet  against  a  stane, 

An  he  has  fought  these  fifteen  men, 

An  killd  them  a’  but  barely  ane. 

17 

For  he  has  left  that  aged  knight, 

An  a’  to  carry  the  tidings  hame. 

18  When  he  gaed  to  his  lady  fair, 

I  wat  he  kissel  her  tenderlie  : 

‘  Thou  art  mine  ain  love,  I  have  thee 
bought ; 

Now  we  shall  walk  the  green-wood 
free.’ 


5  1  On  my  right  hand  I  ’ll  have  a  glove,  love, 

An  on  my  left  ane  I  ’ll  have  nane  ; 

I  ’ll  have  wi’  me  my  sisters  six,  love, 

An  we  will  wauk  the  wuds  our  lane.’ 

6  They  hadna  waukd  in  the  bonnie  greenwud, 

Na  no  an  hour  but  barely  ane, 

Till  up  start  Tammas,  her  ain  true  lover, 

He ’s  taep.  her  sisters  her  frae  mang. 

7  An  he  has  kissed  her  sisters  six,  love, 

An  he  has  sent  them  hame  again, 

But  he  has  keepit  his  ain  true  lover, 

Saying,  ‘  We  will  wauk  the  wuds  our  lane.’ 

8  They  hadna  waukd  in  the  bonnie  greenwud 

Na  no  an  hour  but  barely  ane, 

Till  up  start  fifteen  o  the  bravest  outlaws 
That  ever  bure  either  breath  or  bane. 

9  An  up  bespake  the  foremost  man,  love, 

An  0  but  he  spake  angrily  : 

‘  Either  your  life  —  or  your  lady  fair,  sir, 

This  night  shall  wauk  the  wuds  wi  me.’ 


8.  EllLINTON 


109 


10  ‘  IVIy  lady  fair,  0  I  like  her  weel,  sir, 

An  O  my  life,  but  it  lies  me  near ! 

But  before  I  lose  my  lady  fair,  sir, 

I  ’ll  rather  lose  my  life  sae  dear.’ 

11  Then  up  bespak  the  second  man,  love, 

An  aye  be  spake  mair  angrily, 

Saying,  ‘  Baith  your  life,  and  your  lady  fair, 
sir, 

This  night  shall  wauk  the  wuds  wi  me.’ 

12  4  My  lady  fair,  O  I  like  her  weel,  sir, 

An  O  my  life,  but  it  lies  me  near  ! 

But  before  I  lose  my  lady  fair,  sir, 

I  ’ll  rather  lose  my  life  sae  dear. 

13  4  But  if  ye  ’ll  be  men  to  your  manhood, 

As  that  I  will  be  unto  mine, 

o 

Gutch’s  Robin  Hood,  ii,  345,  from  a  MS.  of  Mr.  Payne 
Collier’s,  supposed  to  have  been  written  about  1650. 

1  As  Robin  Hood  sat  by  a  tree, 

He  espied  a  prettie  may, 

And  when  she  chanced  him  to  see, 

She  turnd  her  head  away. 

2  4  0  feare  me  not,  thou  prettie  mayde, 

And  doe  not  flie  from  mee  ; 

I  am  the  kindest  man,’  he  said, 

4  That  ever  eye  did  see.’ 

3  Then  to  her  he  did  doffe  his  cap, 

And  to  her  lowted  low  ; 

4  To  meete  with  thee  I  hold  it  good  hap, 

If  thou  wilt  not  say  noe.’ 

4  Then  he  put  his  hand  around  her  waste, 

Soe  small,  so  tight,  and  trim, 

And  after  sought  her  lip  to  taste, 

And  she  to(  kissed  him. 

5  ‘  Where  dost  thou  dwell,  my  prettie  maide  ? 

I  prithee  tell  to  me  ;  ’ 

‘  I  am  a  tanner’s  daughter,’  she  said, 

4  John  Hobbes  of  Barneslee.’ 

6  ‘  And  whither  goest  thou,  pretty  maide  ? 

Shall  I  be  thy  true  love  ?  ’ 


I  ’ll  fight  ye  every  ane  man  by  man, 

Till  the  last  drop’s  blude  I  hae  be  slain. 

14  4  0  sit  ye  down,  my  dearest  dearie, 

Sit  down  and  hold  my  noble  steed, 

And  see  that  ye  never  change  your  cheer 
Until  ye  see  my  body  bleed.’ 

15  He ’s  feughten  a’  the  fifteen  outlaws, 

The  fifteen  outlaws  every  ane, 

He ’s  left  naething  but  the  auldest  man 
To  go  and  carry  the  tidings  liame. 

16  An  he  has  gane  to  his  dearest  dear, 

An  he  has  kissed  her,  cheek  and  chin, 
Saying,  4  Thou  art  mine  ain,  I  have  bought 
thee  dear, 

An  we  will  wauk  the  wuds  our  lane.’ 


4  If  thou  art  not  afeard,’  she  said, 

4  My  true  love  thou  slialt  prove.’ 

7  4  What  should  I  feare  ?  ’  then  he  replied  ; 

4 1  am  thy  true  love  now  ;  ’ 

4 1  have  two  brethren,  and  their  pride 
Would  scorn  such  one  as  thou.’ 

8  4  That  will  we  try,’  quoth  Robin  Hood  ; 

4 1  was  not  made  their  scorne  ; 

He  shed  my  blood  to  doe  the[e]  good, 

As  sure  as  they  were  borne.’ 

9  4  My  brothers  are  proude  and  fierce  and  strong ;  ’ 

4 1  am,’  said  he,  4  the  same, 

And  if  they  offer  thee  to  wrong, 

Theyle  finde  lie  play  their  game. 

10  4  Through  the  free  forrest  I  can  run, 

The  king  may  not  controll ; 

They  are  but  barking  tanners’  sons, 

To  me  they  shall  pay  toll. 

11  4  And  if  not  mine  be  sheepe  and  kine, 

I  have  cattle  on  my  land; 

On  venison  eche  day  I  may  dine, 

Whiles  they  have  none  in  hand.’ 

12  These  wordes  had  Robin  Hood  scarce  spoke, 

When  they  two  men  did  see, 

Come  riding  till  their  horses  smoke : 

4  My  brothers  both,’  cried  shee. 


110 


8.  ERLINTON 


* 


13  Each  had  a  good 'sword  by  his  side, 

And  furiouslie  they  rode 
To  where  they  Robin  Hood  espied, 

That  with  the  maiden  stood. 

14  1  Flee  hence,  flee  hence,  away  with  speede  !  ’ 

Cried  she  to  Robin  Hood, 

‘  For  if  thou  stay,  thoult  surely  bleede  ; 

I  could  not  see  thy  blood.’ 

15  ‘  With  us,  false  maiden,  come  away, 

And  leave  that  outlawe  bolde  ; 

Why  fledst  thou  from  thy  home  this  day, 

And  left  thy  father  olde  ?  ’ 

16  Robin  stept  backe  hut  paces  five, 

Unto  a  sturdie  tree  ; 

‘  lie  fight  whiles  I  am  left  alive  ; 

Stay  thou,  sweete  maide,  with  mee.’ 

17  He  stood  before,  she  stoode  behinde, 

The  brothers  two  drewe  nie  ; 

‘  Our  sister  now  to  us  resign, 

Or  thou  full  sure  shalt  die.’ 

18  Then  cried  the  maide,  ‘  My  brethren  deare, 

With  ye  He  freely  wend, 

But  harm  not  this  young  forrester, 

Noe  ill  doth  he  pretend.’ 

19  ‘  Stande  up,  sweete  maide,  I  plight  my  troth  ; 

Fall  thou  not  on  thy  knee  ; 

He  force  thy  cruell  brothers  both 
To  bend  the  knee  to  thee. 

20  ‘  Stand  thou  behinde  this  sturdie  oke, 

I  soone  will  quell  their  pride ; 

Thoult  see  my  sword  with  furie  smoke, 

And  in  their  hearts’  blood  died.’ 

21  He  set  his  backe  against  a  tree, 

His  foote  against  a  stone  ; 

The  first  blow  that  he  gave  so  free 
Cleft  one  man  to  the  bone. 

22  The  tanners  bold  they  fought  right  well, 

And  it  was  one  to  two ; 


A.  42.  Ed.  1833  has  or  kens. 

B.  I2.  If  A  l2  be  right,  gross  injustice  is  done  the 
father  by  changing  I  wat  he  weird  her  into  he 


But  Robin  did  them  both  refell, 

All  in  the  damsell’s  viewe. 

23  The  red  blood  ran  from  Robins  brow, 

All  downe  unto  his  knee ; 

‘  O  holde  your  handes,  my  brethren  now, 

I  will  goe  backe  with  yee.’ 

24  ‘  Stand  backe,  stand  backe,  my  pretty  maide, 

Stand  backe  and  let  me  fight ; 

By  sweete  St.  James  be  no[t]  afraide 
But  I  will  it  requite.’ 

25  Then  Robin  did  his  sword  uplift, 

And  let  it  fall  againe  ; 

The  oldest  brothers  head  it  cleft, 

Right  through  unto  his  braine. 

26  ‘  O  hold  thy  hand,  bolde  forrester, 

Or  ill  may  thee  betide  ; 

Slay  not  my  youngest  brother  here, 

He  is  my  father’s  pride.’ 

27  ‘  Away,  for  I  would  scorne  to  owe, 

My  life  to  the[e],  false  maide  !  ’ 

The  youngest  cried,  and  aimd  a  blow 
That  lit  on  Robin’s  head. 

28  Then  Robin  leand  against  the  tree, 

His  life  nie  gone  did  seeme  ; 

His  eyes  did  swim,  he  could  not  see 
The  maiden  start  betweene. 

29  It  was  not  long  ere  Robin  Hood 

Could  welde  his  sword  so  bright ; 

Upon  his  feete  he  firmly  stood, 

And  did  renew  the  fight. 

30  Untill  the  tanner  scarce  could  heave 

His  weapon  in  the  aire  ; 

But  Robin  would  not  him  bereave 
Of  life,  and  left  him  there. 

31  Then  to  the  greenewood  did  he  fly, 

And  with  him  went  the  maide  ; 

For  him  she  vowd  that  she  would  dye, 

He ’d  live  for  her,  he  said. 


wad  wed  her.  One  of  the  two  is  a  singular 
corruption. 

There  is  another  copy  of  B  among  Mr  White's 


».  THE  FAIR  FLOWER  OF  NORTHUMBERLAND 


111 


jmpers,  with  the  title  ‘  Sir  Thamas'  which 
I  have  no  doubt  has  been  “  revised ,”  whether 
by  Telfer ,  or  by  Mr  White  himself,  it  is  im¬ 
possible  to  say.  The  principal  variations 
are  here  given,  that  others  may  be  satisfied. 

I2.  wed  her  mang  his  ain  kin.  I4.  this  fair. 

28.  Till  up  cam  Thamas  her  only  true  love. 

3s.  O  tirl  nae  langer  at  the  pin.  3s.  I  wadna 
for  a  hundred  pounds,  love.  34.  can  I. 

48.  fu  soon.  44.  And  by  oursels  we  twa  can 
talk. 

51,2.  I  ’ll  hae  a  glove  on  my  right  hand,  love, 
And  on  my  left  I  shall  hae  nane. 

G2-4.  Beyond  an  hour,  or  scarcely  twa, 

When  up  rode  Thamas,  her  only  true  love, 
And  he  has  tane  her  frae  mang  them  a’. 

71.  He  kissed  her  sisters,  a’  the  six,  love.  78.  ' 
his  winsome  true  love.  74.  That  they  might 
walk. 

81.  didna  walk. 

82  4.  Beyond  two  hours,  or  barely  three, 

Till  up  cam  seven  *  stalwart  outlaws, 

The  bauldest  fellows  that  ane  could  see. 

*  “  The  original  ballad  had  fifteen.  Seven  would  do  as 
well,  and  the  latter  number  would  seem  more  nearly  to  re¬ 
semble  the  truth.” 


9s.  We  ’ll  take  your  life,  for  this  lady  fair,  sir. 
101.  My  lady ’s  fair,  I  like  her  weel,  sir. 

II2,8.  And  he  spak  still  mair  furiously ; 

‘  Flee,  or  we  ’ll  kill  ye,  because  your  lady. 

12.  ‘  My  lady  fair,  I  shall  part  na  frae  thee, 

And  for  my  life,  I  did  never  fear; 

Sae  before  I  lose  my  winsome  lady, 

My  life  I  ’ll  venture  for  ane  sae  dear. 

13.  ‘  But  if  ye  ’re  a’  true  to  your  manhood, 

As  I  shall  try  to  he  true  to  mine, 

I  ’ll  fight  ye  a’,  come  man  by  man  then, 
Till  the  last  drop  o  my  bloud  I  tine.’ 

142.  my  bridled  steed.  148.  And  mind  ye  never 
change  your  colour. 

15.  He  fought  against  the  seven  outlaws, 

And  he  has  heat  them  a’  himsel ; 

But  he  left  the  auldest  man  amang  them 
That  he  might  gae  and  the  tidings  tell. 

16.  Then  he  has  gane  to  his  dearest  dearie, 

And  he  has  kissed  her  oer  and  oer ; 

‘  Though  thou  art  mine,  I  hae  bought  thee 
dearly, 

Now  we  shall  sunder  never  more.’ 

I1.  Robinhood,  and  so  always. 

31.  After  this  :  Finis,  T.  Fleming. 


9 

THE  FAIR  FLOWER  OF  NORTHUMBERLAND 


A.  a.  Deloney’s  *  Jack  of  Newbury,’ reprint  of  1859, 
p.  61.  b.  ‘  The  Ungrateful  Knight  and  the  Fair 
Flower  of  Northumberland,’  Ritson’s  Ancient  Songs, 
1790,  p.  169. 

B.  a.  Ivinloch  MSS,  v,  49.  b.  ‘  The  Provost’s  Doch- 
ter,’  Ivinloch’s  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  131. 


C.  *  The  Betrayed  Lady.’  a.  Buchan’s  MSS,  n,  166. 
b.  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  n, 
208. 

D.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  102. 

E.  ‘  The  Flower  of  Northumberland,’  Mr  Robert  White’s 
papers. 


The  earliest  copy  of  this  ballad  is  intro¬ 
duced  as  ‘  The  Maidens’  Song,’  f  in  Deloney’s 
Pleasant  History  of  John  Winchcomb,  in  his 
younger  yeares  called  Jacke  of  Newberie,  a 
book  written  as  early  as  1597.  Mr  Halliwell 
reprinted  the  “  9th”  edition,  of  the  date  1633,  | 

t  “  Two  of  them  singing  the  dittie,”  says  Deloney,  “  and 
all  the  rest  bearing  the  burden.” 


in  1859,  and  the  ballad  is  found  at  p.  61  of  the 
reprint  (A).  The  copy  in  Ritson’s  Ancient 
Songs,  1790,  p.  169,  has  a  few  variations, 
which  are  probably  to  be  explained  by  Rit- 
son  having  used  some  other  edition  of  De¬ 
loney.  Ritson’s  text  is  used  in  The  Border- 

•  t  The  earliest  edition  now  known  to  exist  is  of  1619. 


112 


9.  THE  FAIR  FLOWER  OF  NORTHUMBERLAND 


er’s  Table  Book,  vi,  25,  and  was  taken  thence 
into  Sheldon’s-  Minstrelsy  of  the  English  Bor¬ 
der,  with  some  arbitrary  alterations.  The 
ballad  was  formerly  popular  in  Scotland.  Kin- 
loch  and  Buchan  printed  B  and  C  with  some 
slight  changes ;  the  texts  are  now  given  as  they 
stand  in  the  manuscripts.  E,  a  traditional 
version  from  the  English  border,  has  unfortu¬ 
nately  been  improved  by  some  literary  pen. 

An  English  lady  is  prevailed  upon  to  release 
a  Scot  from  prison,  and  to  fly  with  him,  on 
the  promise  of  being  made  his  wife,  and  (A) 
lady  of  castles  and  towers.  She  takes  much 
gold  with  her  (A),  and  a  swift  steed  (two,  A). 
According  to  A  they  come  to  a  rough  river ; 
the  lady  is  alarmed,  but  swims  it,  and  is  wet 
from  top  to  toe.  On  coming  within  sight  of 
Edinburgh,  the  faithless  knight  bids  her  choose 
whether  she  will  be  his  paramour  or  go  back  : 
he  has  wife  and  children.  She  begs  him  to 
draw  his  sword  and  end  her  shame  :  he  takes 
her  horse  away,  and  leaves  her.  Two  English 
knights  come  by,  who  restore  her  to  her  fa¬ 
ther.  The  dismissal  takes  place  at  the  Scottish 
cross  and  moor  in  B  ;  at  a  moor  and  a  moss,  C  ; 
at  Scotland  bridge,  D  ;  at  a  fair  Scottish  cross, 
E.  She  offers  to  be  servant  in  his  kitchen 
rather  than  go  back,  B,  C,  E ;  begs  him  to 
throw  her  into  the  water,  D ;  from  his  castle 
wall,  E.  He  fees  an  old  man  to  take  her 
home  on  an  old  horse,  B,  E. 

We  do  not  find  the  whole  of  this  story  re¬ 
peated  among  other  European  nations,  but 
there  are  interesting  agreements  in  parts  with 
Scandinavian,  Polish,  and  German  ballads. 

There  is  some  resemblance  in  the  first  half 
to  a  pretty  ballad  of  the  northern  nations 
which  treats  in  a  brief  way  the  theme  of  our 
exquisite  romance  of  ‘  The  Nutbrown  Maid  :  ’ 
Danish,  ‘  Den  Trofaste  Jomfru,’  Grundtvig, 
No  249,  iy,  494,  nine  copies,  A-I,  the  first 
three  from  16tli  or  17th  century  manuscripts, 
the  others  from  tradition  of  this  century,  as  are 

*  Some  of  these  ballads  begin  with  stanzas  which  are 
found  also  in  Kvindemorderen  and  Ribold  ballads  (our  No 
4,  No  7),  where  also  a  young  woman  is  carried  off  furtively 
by  a  man.  This  is  only  what  is  to  be  expected. 

t  By  mistake,  most  probably.  But  in  one  of  the  Polish 
ballads,  cited  a  little  further  on,  Q  (Kolberg,  P.  1.  Pol- 


also  the  following  :  K-M,  ‘  Den  Fredlose,’  Kris- 
tensen,  n,  191,  No  57  :  Swedish,  ‘  De  sju  Gull- 
bergen,’  A,  Afzelius,  No  79,  ill,  71,  new  ed., 
No  64,  I,  822 ;  B,  C,  Grundtvig,  IY,  507  f : 
Norwegian  A,  ‘  Herre  Per  og  stolt  Margit,’ 
Landstad,  No  74,  p.  590  ;  B,  '  Herr’  Nikelus,’ 
Landstad,  No  75,  p.  594.*  All  tell  very  much 
the  same  tale.  A  knight  carries  off  a  maid 
on  his  horse,  making  her  magnificent  promises, 
among  which  are  eight  gold  castles,  Dan.  C,  D, 
E,  H,  I ;  one,  K,  L,  M ;  eight,  Norw.  A  ;  nine, 
Norw.  B ;  seven,  Swed.  B ;  seven  gold  moun¬ 
tains,  Swed.  A,  perhaps,  by  mistake  of  ber gen 
for  boxgar .f  She  gets  her  gold  together  while 
he  is  saddling  bis  horse,  Dan.  A,  C,  D,  F,  H, 
M ;  Swed.  A  ;  Norw.  A,  B.  They  come  to  a 
sea-strand  or  other  water,  it  is  many  miles  to 
the  nearest  land,  Dan.  B,  D,  Swed.  A,  C  ; 
the  lady  wishes  she  were  at  home,  Dan.  E,  F, 
Swed.  B,  C.  He  swims  the  horse  across,  Dan. 
A,  B,  D,  E,  F,  H,  K,  L,  M  ;  Swed.  A,  B,  C 
[part  of  the  way,  having  started  in  a  boat, 
Norw.  A,  B].  The  maid  wrings  her  clothes, 
Dan.  A,  D,  K,  L  ;  Swed.  A ;  Norw.  A,  B. 
She  asks,  Where  are  the  gold  castles  which 
you  promised  ?  Dan.  C  7,  D  14,  K  9,  L  7, 
M  8  ;  Norw.  A  22,  B  16.  J  He  tells  her  that 
he  has  no  gold  castle  but  this  green  turf, 
Dan.  C  8  ;  he  needs  none  but  the  black  ground 
and  thick  wood,  Dan.  K  10 :  he  is  a  penni¬ 
less,  banished  man.  She  offers  him  her  gold 
to  buy  him  a  charter  of  peace.  In  all,  except 
Dan.  A,  B,  C,  and  the  incomplete  Dan.  I, 
Norw.  B,  he  goes  on  to  say  that  he  has  plighted 
faith  to  another  woman,  and  she  meekly  re¬ 
plies,  Then  I  will  be  your  servant.  He  con¬ 
tinues  the  trial  no  further,  reveals  himself 
as  of  wealth  and  rank,  says  that  she  shall  have 
ladies  to  wait  on  her,  and  makes  her  his  queen. 
The  knight  is  king  of  England  in  Dan.  B,  H, 
King  Henry,  simply,  in  Dan.  F.  The  gold 
castles  prove  to  be  realities  :  there  is  in  Dan. 
E  even  one  more  than  was  promised.  § 

skiego,  5  pp),  the  maid  is  told,  “  In  my  country  the  moun¬ 
tains  are  golden,  the  mountains  are  of  gold.” 

t  So  ‘  Lady  Isabel  and  the  Elf-Knight/  Dll: 

*  Is  this  your  bowers  and  lofty  towers  ?  ’ 

§  There  is  a  similarity,  which  is  perhaps  not  accidental, 
between  these  Scandinavian  ballads  and  ‘  Child  Waters.’ 


9.  THE  FAIR  FLOWER  OF  NORTHUMBERLAND 


113 


The  Polish  ballads  of  the  class  of  ‘  Lady 
Isabel  and  the  Elf  Knight  ’  (see  p.  39  f)  have 
thus  much  in  common  with  ‘  The  Fair  Flower 
of  Northumberland  a  maid  is  induced  to  go 
off  with  a  man  on  horseback,  and  takes  gold 
with  her  ;  after  going  a  certain  distance,  he 
bids  her  return  home ;  in  AA,  H,  R,  he  gives 
her  her  choice  whether  to  return  or  to  jump 
into  the  river  ;  she  prefers  death  (cf.  D  3,  5, 
p.  116)  ;  in  all  they  finally  come  to  a  river,  or 
other  water,  into  which  lie  throws  her.* 

There  is  a  German  ballad  which  has  some 
slight  connection  with  all  the  foregoing,  and 
a  very  slight  story  it  is  altogether :  ‘  Stolz 
Heinrich,’  Simrock,  No  9,  p.  23,  ‘  Stolz  Sy- 
burg,’  Reiffenberg,  No  16,  p.  32,  No  17,  p.  34, 
from  the  Lower  Rhine  and  Munster ;  made 
over,  in  Ivretzschmer,  I,  187,  No  106.  Hein¬ 


rich,  or  Syburg,  wooes  a  king’s  daughter  in 
a  distant  land.  He  asks  her  to  go  with  him, 
and  says  he  has  seven  mills  in  his  country. 
“  Tell  me  what  they  grind,”  says  Margaret, 
“  and  I  will  go  with  you.”  The  mills  grind 
sugar  and  cinnamon,  mace  and  cloves.  They 
come  to  a  green  heath.  Margaret  thinks  she 
sees  the  mills  gleaming :  he  tells  her  that  a 
green  heath  is  all  ‘lie  has.  “  Then  God  have 
mercy  that  I  have  come  so  far,”  she  says; 
draws  a  sword,  kneels  before  him,  and  stabs 
herself. 

The  ballad  of  ‘  Young  Andrew,’  further 
/)n,  has  points  in  common  with  ‘  The  Fair 
Flower  of  Northumberland.’ 

C  is  translated  by  Rosa  Warrens,  Schot- 
tische  Lieder  der  Vorzeit,  No  31,  p.  137. 


A 

a.  Deloney’s  Pleasant  History  of  John  Winchcomb,  9th 
ed.,  London,  1633,  reprinted  by  Halliwell,  p.  61.  b.  Ritson’s 
Ancient  Songs,  1790,  p.  169. 

1  It  was  a  knight  in  Scotland  borne 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand 
Was  taken  prisoner,  and  left  forlorne, 

Even  by  the  good  Earle  of  Northumber¬ 
land. 

2  Then  was  he  cast  in  prison  strong, 

Where  he  could  not  walke  nor  lie  along, 

Even  by  the  goode  Earle  of  Northumber¬ 
land. 

3  And  as  in  sorrow  thus  he  lay, 

The  Earle’s  sweete  daughter  walkt  that  way, 
And  she  the  faire  flower  of  Northumber¬ 
land. 

4  And  passing  by*,  like  an  angell  bright, 

The  prisoner  had  of  her  a  sight, 

And  she  the  faire  flower  of  Northumber¬ 
land. 

Chijd  Waters  makes  Ellen  swim  a  piece  of  water,  shows  her 
his  hall  —  “  of  red  gold  shines  the  tower  ”  —  where  the  fair¬ 
est  lady  is  his  paramour,  subjects  her  to  menial  services,  and 
finally,  her  patience  withstanding  all  trials,  marries  her. 

*  They  pass  the  water  in  Q  only,  and  that  in  a  boat. 

15 


5  And  loud  to  her  this  knight  did  crie, 

The  salt  teares  standing  in  his  eye, 

And  she  the  faire  flower  of  Northumberland. 

6  ‘  Faire  lady,’  he  said,  ‘take  pity  on  me, 

And  let  me  not  in  prison  dye, 

And  you  the  faire  flower  of  Northumber¬ 
land.’ 

7  ‘  Faire  Sir,  how  should  I  take  pity  on  thee, 
Thou  being  a  foe  to  our  countrey, 

And  I  the  faire  flower  of  Northumberland.’ 

8  ‘  Faire  lady,  I  am  no  foe,’  he  said, 

‘  Through  thy  sweet  love  heere  was  I  stayd, 
For  thee,  the  faire  flower  of  Northumber¬ 
land.’ 

9  ‘  Why  shouldst  thou  come  heere  for  love  of  me, 
Having  wife  and  children  in  thy  countrie  ? 

And  I  the  faire  flower  of  Northumberland.’ 

10  ‘  I  sweare  by  the  blessed  Trinitie, 

I  have  no  wife  nor  children,  I, 

Nor  dwelling  at  home  in  merrie  Scotland. 

She  is  thrown  in  from  a  bridge  in  V,  W,  the  bridge  of  Cra¬ 
cow  in  C  :  cf.  Scotland  bridge,  D  2  of  this  ballad.  By  a 
curious  accident,  it  is  at  a  wayside  crucifix  that  the  man  be¬ 
gins  his  change  of  demeanor  in  Polish  CC  2  (Kolberg, 
ddd),  as  in  B  5,  E  7,  of  this  ballad,  it  is  at  a  Scottish  cross. 


114 


9.  THE  FAIR  FLOWER  OF  NORTHUMBERLAND 


11  ‘  If  curteously  you  will  set  me  free, 

I  vow  that  I  will  marrie  thee, 

So  soone  as  I  come  in  faire  Scotland. 

12  4  Thou  shalt  he  a  lady  of  castles  and  towers, 
And  sit  like  a  queene  in  princely  bowers, 

When  I  am  at  home  in  faire  Scotland.’ 

13  Then  parted  hence  this  lady  gay, 

And  got  her  father’s  ring  away, 

To  helpe  this  sad  knight  into  faire  Scot¬ 
land. 

14  Likewise  much  gold  she  got  by  sleight, 

And  all  to  helpe  this  forlorne  knight 

To  wend  from  her  father  to  faire  Scotland. 

15  Two  gallant  steedes,  both  good  and  able, 

She  likewise  tooke  out  of  the  stable, 

To  ride  with  this  knight  into  faire  Scotland. 

16  And  to  the  jaylor  she  sent  this  ring, 

The  knight  from  prison  forth  to  bring, 

To  wend  with  her  into. faire  Scotland. 

17  This  token  set  the  prisoner  free, 

Who  straight  went  to  this  faire  lady, 

To  wend  with  her  into  faire  Scotland. 

18  A  gallant  steede  he  did  bestride, 

And  with  the  lady  away  did  ride, 

And  she  the  faire  flower  of  Northumber¬ 
land. 

19  They  rode  till  they  came  to  a  water  cleare : 

4  Good  Sir,  how  should  I  follow  you  heere, 

And  I  the  faire  flower  of  Northumberland  ? 

20  4  The  water  is  rough  and  wonderfull  deepe, 
An[d]  on  my  saddle  I  shall  not  keepe, 

And  I  the  faire  flower  of  Northumberland.’ 

21  4  Feare  not  the  foord,  faire  lady,’  quoth  he, 

4  For  long  I  cannot  stay  for  thee. 

And  thou  the  faire  flower  of  Northumber- 
land.’ 

22  The  lady  prickt  her  wanton  steed, 

And  over  the  river  sworn  with  speede, 

And  she  the  faire  flower  of  Northumber¬ 
land. 


F rom  top  to  toe  all  wet  was  shee : 
k  This  have  I  done  for  love  of  thee, 

And  I  the  faire  flower  of  Northumberland.’ 

Thus  rode  she  all  one  winter’s  night, 

Till  Edenborow  they  saw  in  sight, 

The  chiefest  towne  in  all  Scotland. 

4  Now  chuse,’  quoth  he,  4  thou  wanton  flower, 
Whe’r  thou  wilt  be  my  paramour, 

Or  get  thee  home  to  Northumberland. 

4  For  I  have  wife,  and  children  five, 

In  Edenborow  they  be  alive  ; 

Then  get  thee  home  to  laire  England. 

4  This  favour  shalt  thou  have  to  boote, 

He  have  thy  horse,  go  thou  on  foote, 

Go,  get  thee  home  to  Northumberland.’ 

4  O  false  and  faithlesse  knight,’  quoth  shee, 

4  And  canst  thou  deale  so  bad  with  me, 

And  I  the  faire  flower  of  Northumberland? 

4  Dishonour  not  a  ladie’s  name, 

But  draw  thy  sword  and  end  my  shame, 

And  I  the  faire  flower  of  Northumberland.’ 

He  tooke  her  from  her  stately  steed, 

And  left  her  there  in  extreme  need, 

And  she  the  faire  flower  of  Northumberland. 

Then  sate  she  downe  full  heavily ; 

At  length  two  knights  came  riding  by, 

Two  gallant  knights  of  faire  England. 

She  fell  downe  humbly  on  her  knee, 

Saying,  4  Courteous  knights,  take  pittie  on  me, 
And  I  the  faire  flower  of  Northumberland. 

4  I  have  offended  my  father  deere, 

And  by  a  false  knight  that  brought  me  heere, 
From  the  good  Earle  of  Northumberland.’ 

They  tooke  her  up  behind  them  then, 

And  brought  her  to  her  father’s  againe, 

And  he  the  good  Earle  of  Northumberland. 

All  you  faire  maidens  be  warned  by  me, 

Scots  were  never  true,  nor  never  will  be, 

To  lord,  nor  lady,  nor  faire  England. 


23 

24 

25 

26 

27 

28 

29 

30 

31 

32 

33 

34 

35 


9.  THE  FAIR  FLOWER  OF  NORTHUMBERLAND. 


115 


B 

a.  Kinloch  MSS,  v,  49,  in  the  handwriting  of  J.  Beattie, 
b.  Kinloch ’s  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  134,  from  the  reci¬ 
tation  of  Miss  E.  Beattie. 

1  The  provost’s  daughter  went  out  a  walking, 

A  may’s  love  whiles  is  easy  won 
She  heard  a  poor  prisoner  making  his  moan, 
And  she  was  the  fair  flower  of  Northumber¬ 
land. 

2  ‘  If  any  lady  would  borrow  me 

Out  into  the  prison  strong, 

I  would  make  her  a  lady  of  high  degree, 

For  I  am  a  great  lord  in  fair  Scotland.’ 

3  She ’s  done  her  to  her  father’s  bed-stock, 

A  may’s  love  whiles  is  easy  won  • 

She ’s  stolen  the  keys  o  many  braw  lock, 

And  she’s  loosd  him  out  o  the  prison  strong. 

4  She ’s  done  her  to  her  father’s  stable, 

A  may’s  love  whiles  is  easy  won 
She ’s  taen  out  a  steed  that  was  both  swift  and 
able, 

To  carry  them  both  to  fair  Scotland. 

5  0  when  they  came  to  the  Scottish  cross, 

A  may’s  love  whiles  is  easy  won 
‘  Ye  brazen-faced  whore,  light  off  o  my  horse, 
And  go  get  you  back  to  Northumberland  !  ’ 

C  0  when  they  came  to  the  Scottish  moor, 

A  may’s  love  whiles  is  easy  won 
‘  Get  off  o  my  horse,  you  ’re  a  brazen-faced 
whore, 

So  go  get  you  back  to  Northumberland  !  ’ 

7  ‘  O  pity  on  me,  0  pity,’  said  she, 

‘  O  that  my  love  was  so  easy  won  ! 

Have  pity  on  me  as  I  had  upon  thee, 

When  I  loosd  you  out  of  the  prison  strong.’ 


c 

a.  Buchan’s  MSS,  n,  166.  b.  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the 
North  of  Scotland,  n,  208. 

1  As  I  went  by  a  jail-house  door, 

Maid’s  love  whiles  is  easy  won 
I  saw  a  prisoner  standing  there, 

4 1  wish  I  were  home  in  fair  Scotland. 


8  ‘  O  how  can  I  have  pity  on  thee  ? 

O  why  was  your  love  so  easy  won  ! 

When  I  have  a  wife  and  children  three 
More  worthy  than  a’  Northumberland.’ 

9  ‘  Cook  in  your  kitchen  I  will  be, 

O  that  my  love  was  so  easy  won ! 

And  serve  your  lady  most  reverently, 

For  I  darena  go  back  to  Northumberland.’ 

10  ‘  Cook  in  my  kitchen  you  shall  not  be, 

Why  was  your  love  so  easy  won  ! 

For  I  will  have  no  such  servants  as  thee, 

So  get  you  back  to  Northumberland.’ 

11  But  laith  was  he  the  lassie  to  tyne, 

A  may’s  love  whiles  is  easy  won 
He ’s  hired  an  old  horse  and  feed  an  old  man, 
To  carry  her  back  to  Northumberland. 

12  0  when  she  came  her  father  before, 

A  may’s  love  whiles  is  easy  won 
She  fell  down  on  her  knees  so  low 

For  she  was  the  fair  flower  of  Northumber¬ 
land. 

13  ‘  0  daughter,  O  daughter,  why  was  ye  so  bold, 

Or  why  was  your  love  so  easy  won, 

To  be  a  Scottish  whore  in  your  fifteen  year  old  ? 
And  you  the  fair  flower  of  Northumberland  !  ’ 

14  Her  mother  she  gently  on  her  did  smile, 

0  that  her  love  was  so  easy  won ! 

‘  She  is  not  the  first  that  the  Scotts  have  beguild. 
But  she ’s  still  the  fair  flower  of  Northum¬ 
berland. 

15  ‘  She  shanna  want  gold,  she  shanna  want  fee, 

Altho  that  her  love  was  so  easy  won, 

She  shanna  want  gold  to  gain  a  man  wi, 

And  she ’s  still  the  fair  flower  of  Northum¬ 
berland.’ 


2  ‘  Fair  maid,  will  you  pity  me  ? 

Ye  ’ll  steal  the  keys,  let  me  gae  free : 

I  ’ll  make  you  my  lady  in  fair  Scotland. 

3  ‘I’m  sure  you  have  no  need  of  me, 

For  ye  have  a  wife  and  bairns  three, 

That  lives  at  home  in  fair  Scotland.’ 


116 


9.  THE  FAIR  FLOWER  OF  NORTHUMBERLAND 


4  He  swore  by  him  that  was  crowncl  with  9 

thorn, 

That  he  never  had  a  wife  since  the  day  he  was 
born, 

But  livd  a  free  lord  in  fair  Scotland.  10 

5  She  went  unto  her  father’s  bed-head, 

She ’s  stown  the  key  o  mony  a  lock, 

She ’s  let  him  out  o  prison  strong.  H 

6  She ’s  went  to  her  father’s  stable, 

She ’s  stown  a  steed  baith  wight  and  able, 

To  carry  them  on  to  fair  Scotland.  12 

7  They  rode  till  they  came  to  a  muir, 

He  bade  her  light  aff,  they ’d  call  her  a 

whore,  13 

If  she  didna  return  to  Northumberland. 

8  They  rode  till  they  came  to  a  moss, 

He  bade  her  light  aff  her  father’s  best  horse,  14 
And  return  her  again  to  Northumberland. 


Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  102. 

1  She ’s  gane  down  to  her  father’s  stable, 

0  my  dear,  and  my  love  that  she  wan  4 

She ’s  taen  out  a  black  steed  baith  sturdy  and 
able, 

And  she ’s  away  to  fair  Scotland. 

2  When  they  came  to  Scotland  bridge,  5 

‘  Light  off,  you  whore,  from  my  black  steed, 

And  go  your  ways  back  to  Northumber¬ 
land.’ 


E 

“  Written  down  from  memory  by  Robert  Hutton,  Shep¬ 
herd,  Peel,  Liddesdale.”  Mr  R.  White’s  papers.  „ 

o 

1  A  bailiff’s  fair  daughter,  she  lived  by  the  Ain, 

A  young  maid’s  love  is  easily  won 
She  heard  a  poor  prisoner  making  his  moan, 

And  she  was  the  flower  of  Northumberland. 

4 

2  ‘  If  ye  could  love  me,  as  I  do  love  thee, 

A  young  maid’s  love  is  hard  to  win 


‘  I ’m  sure  I  have  no  need  of  thee, 

When  I  have  a  wife  and  bairns  three, 

That  lives  at  home  in  fair  Scotland.’ 

‘  I  ’ll  be  cook  in  your  kitchen, 

And  serve  your  lady  handsomelie, 

For  I  darena  gae  back  to  Northumberland.’ 

‘Ye  cannot  be  cook  in  my  kitchen, 

My  lady  cannot  fa  sic  servants  as  thee, 

So  ye  ’ll  return  again  to  Northumberland.’ 

When  she  went  thro  her  father’s  ha, 

She  looted  her  low  amongst  them  a’, 

She  was  the  fair  flower  0  Northumberland. 

Out  spake  her  father,  he  spake  bold, 

‘  How.  could  ye  be  a  whore  in  fifteen  years  old, 
And  you  the  flower  of  Northumberland  ?  ’ 

Out  spake  her  mother,  she  spake  wi  a  smile, 

‘  She ’s  nae  the  first  his  coat  did  beguile, 

Ye  ’re  welcome  again  to  Northumberland.’ 


‘  O  take  me  by  the  body  so  meek, 

And  throw  me  in  the  water  so  deep, 

For  I  daurna  gae  back  to  Northumberland.’ 

‘  I  ’ll  no  take  thee  by  the  body  so  meek, 

Nor  throw  thee  in  the  water  so  deep ; 

Thou  may  go  thy  ways  back  to  Northumber¬ 
land.’ 

‘  Take  me  by  the  body  so  small, 

And  throw  me  in  yon  bonny  mill-dam, 

For  I  daurna  gae  back  to  Northumberland.’ 


I  ’ll  make  you  a  lady  of  high  degree, 

When  once  we  go  down  to  fair  Scotland.’ 

To  think  of  the  prisoner  her  heart  was  sore, 

A  young  maid’s  love  is  easily  won 
Her  love  it  was  much,  but  her  pity  was  more, 
And  she,  etc. 

She  stole  from  her  father’s  pillow  the  key, 
And  out  of  the  dungeon  she  soon  set  him  free, 
And  she,  etc. 


9.  THE  FAIR  FLOWER  OF  NORTHUMBERLAND 


117 


5  She  led  him  into  her  father’s  stable, 

And  they ’ve  taken  a  steed  both  gallant  and 
able, 

To  carry  them  down  to  fair  Scotland. 

6  When  they  first  took  the  way,  it  was  darling 

and  dear ; 

As  forward  they  fared,  all  changed  was  his 
cheer, 

And  she,  etc. 

7  They  rode  till  they  came  to  a  fair  Scottish 

corse  ; 

Says  he,  ‘  Now,  pray  madam,  dismount  from 
my  horse, 

And  go  get  you  back  to  Northumberland. 

8  ‘  It  befits  not  to  ride  with  a  leman  light, 

When  awaits  my  returning  my  own  lady 

bright, 

My  own  wedded  wife  in  fair  Scotland.’ 

9  The  words  that  he  said  on  her  fond  heart 

smote, 

She  knew  not  in  sooth  if  she  lived  or  not, 

And  she,  etc. 

10  She  looked  to  his  face,  and  it  kythed  so  unkind 
That  her  fast  coming  tears  soon  tendered  her 

blind, 

And  she,  etc. 

11  ‘  Have  pity  on  me  as  I  had  it  on  thee, 

O  why  was  my  love  so  easily  won  ! 

A  slave  in  your  kitchen  I ’m  willing  to  be, 

But  I  may  not  go  back  to  Northumberland. 

12  ‘  Or  carry  me  up  by  the  middle  sae  sma, 

O  why  was  my  love  so  easily  won ! 


A.  a.  2.  Halliwell's  Deloney ,  in  the  first  line  of 
the  burden ,  has  leape  over,  but  not  elsewhere. 

92.  in  the.  252.  Where, 
b.  32.  walks.  34.  she  is. 

51.  aloud. 

138.  omits  sad. 

158.  the  knight. 

162.  forth  did. 

248.  The  fairest. 

27 x.  thou  shalt. 

322.  knight. 


And  fling  me  headlong  from  your  high  castle  wa, 
For  I  dare  not  go  back  to  Northumberland.’ 

13  Her  wailing,  her  woe,  for  nothing  they  went, 

A  young  maid’s  love  is  easily  won 
His  bosom  was  stone  and  he  would  not  relent, 
And  she,  etc. 

14  He  turned  him  around  and  he  thought  of  a  plan, 
He  bought  an  old  horse  and  he  hired  an  old  man, 

To  carry  her  back  to  Northumberland. 

15  A  heavy  heart  makes  a  weary  way, 

She  reached  her  home  in  the  evening  gray, 
And  she,  etc. 

16  And  all  as  she  stood  at  her  father’s  tower-gate, 
More  loud  beat  her  heart  than  her  knock  thereat, 

And  she,  etc. 

17  Down  came  her  step-dame,  so  rugged  and 

doure, 

0  why  was  your  love  so  easily  won ! 

‘  In  Scotland  go  back  to  your  false  paramour, 
For  you  shall  not  stay  here  in  Northumber¬ 
land.’ 

18  Down  came  her  father,  he  saw  her  and  smiled, 

A  young  maid’s  love  is  easily  won 
1  You  are  not  the  first  that  false  Scots  have  be¬ 
guiled, 

And  ye  ’re  aye  welcome  back  to  Northum¬ 
berland. 

19  1  You  shall  not  want  houses,  you  shall  not  want 

land, 

You  shall  not  want  gold  for  to  gain  a  husband, 
And  ye  ’re  aye  welcome  back  to  Northum¬ 
berland.’ 


352.  never  were. 

B.  b.  22.  this  prison. 

48.  omits  that  was. 

68.  ye  brazen-fac’d. 

II3.  He  hired. 

123.  fell  at  his  feet. 

131.  omits  so. 

141.  mother  on  her  sae  gentlie  smild,  etc. 

C.  a.  82.  Her  bade.  83.  return  him. 
b.  51.  into. 

132.  at  fifteen. 


118 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


D.  2.  Thus  in  Motherwell' s  Minstrelsy ,  Appen¬ 
dix,  p.  xv : 

When  they  came  to  Scotland  brig, 

0  my  dear,  my  love  that  she  wan ! 

‘  Light  off,  ye  hure,  from  my  black  steed, 
And  hie  ye  awa  to  Northumberland.’ 


E.  “  The  Flower  of  Northumberland.  Written 
down  from  memory  by  Robert  Hutton,  Shep- 
perd,  Peel,  Liddesdale,  and  sent  by  James 
Telfor  to  his  friend  Robert  White,  Newcastle 
on  Tyne.  20  copies  printed.”  Mr  White's 
note. 


10 

THE  TWA  SISTERS 


A.  a.  ‘  The  Miller  and  the  King’s  Daughter,’  broadside 
of  1656,  Notes  and  Queries,  1st  S.,  v,  591.  b.  Wit 
Restor’d,  1658,  “  p.  51,”  in  the  reprint  of  1817,  p.  153. 
c.  ‘  The  Miller  and  the  King’s  Daughters,’  Wit  and 
Drollery,  ed.  1682,  p.  87.  d.  ‘  The  Miller  and  the 
King’s  Daughter,’  Jamieson’s  Popular  Ballads,  I, 
315. 

B.  a.  ‘  The  Twa  Sisters,’  Jamieson-Brown  MS.,  fol. 
39.  b.  ‘  The  Cruel  Sister,’  Wm.  Tytler’s  Brown 
MS.,  No  15.  c.  ‘  The  Cruel  Sister,’  Abbotsford  MS., 
“Scottish  Songs,”  fol.  21.  d.  ‘The  Twa  Sisters,’ 
Jamieson’s  Popular  Ballads,  I,  48. 

C.  1  The  Cruel  Sister,’  Scott’s  Minstrelsy,  n,  143 
(1802). 

D.  ‘  The  Bonnie  Milldams  of  Binnorie,’  Kinloch  MSS, 
ii,  49. 

E.  ‘  The  Twa  Sisters,’  Sharpe’s  Ballad  Book,  No  x,  p. 
30. 

F.  ‘The  Bonny  Bows  o  London,’  Motherwell’s  MS., 
p.  383. 

G.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  104. 

H.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  147. 

I.  ‘  Bonnie  Milldams  o  Binnorie,’  Kinloch  MSS,  v,  425. 

J.  ‘  The  Miller’s  Melody,’  Notes  and  Queries,  4th  S., 
v,  23. 


This  is  one  of  the  very  few  old  ballads 
which  are  not  extinct  as  tradition  in  the  Brit¬ 
ish  Isles.  Even  drawing-room  versions  are 
spoken  of  as  current,  “  generally  traced  to 


K.  ‘  Binnorie,’  Kinloch’s  papers. 

L.  a.  ‘  The  Miller’s  Melody,’  Notes  and  Queries,  1st  S., 
v,  316.  b.  ‘  The  Drowned  Lady,’  The  Scouring  of 
the  White  Horse,  p.  161. 

M.  ‘  Binorie,  O  an  Binorie,’  Murison  MS.,  p.  79. 

N.  ‘  Binnorie,’  [Pinkerton’s]  Scottish  Tragic  Ballads, 
p.  72. 

O.  ‘  The  Bonny  Bows  o  London.’  a.  Buchan’s  Ballads 
of  the  North  of  Scotland,  n,  128.  b.  Christie’s  Tra¬ 
ditional  Ballad  Airs,  I,  42. 

P.  a.  ‘  The  Twa  Sisters,’  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  245.  b. 
‘  The  Swan  swims  bounie  O,’  Motherwell’s  Minstrel¬ 
sy,  Appendix,  p.  xx. 

Q.  ‘  The  Twa  Sisters,’  communicated  by  J.  F.  Camp¬ 
bell,  Esq. 

R.  a.  ‘  The  Three  Sisters,’  Notes  and  Q.,  1st  S.,  vi, 
102.  b.  ‘  Bodown,’  communicated  by  J.  F.  Camp¬ 
bell,  Esq.  c.  J»The  Barkskire  Tragedy,’  The  Scour¬ 
ing  of  the  White  Horse,  p.  158. 

S.  Kinloch  MSS,  vi,  89. 

T.  ‘  Sister,  dear  Sister,’  Allingkam’s  Ballad  Book,  p. 
xxxiii. 

U.  From  Long  Island,  N.  Y.,  communicated  by  Mr  W. 
W.  Newell. 


some  old  nurse,  who  sang  them  to  the  young 
ladies.”  *  It  has  been  found  in  England,  Scot- 

*  Campbell’s  Popular  Tales  of  the  West  Highlands,  iv, 
126,  1862. 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


119 


land,  Wales,  and  Ireland,  and  was  very  early 
in  print.  I)r  Rimbault  possessed  and  pub¬ 
lished  a  broadside  of  the  date  1656*  (A  a), 
and  the  same  copy  is  included  in  the  miscel¬ 
lany  called  Wit  Restor’d,  1658.  Both  of 
these  name  “  Mr  Smith  ”  as  the  author  ;  that 
is,  Dr  James  Smith,  a  well-known  writer  of 
humorous  verses,  to  whom  the  larger  part  of 
the  pieces  in  Wit  Restor’d  has  been  attrib¬ 
uted.  If  the  ballad  were  ever  in  Smith’s  hands, 
he  might  possibly  have  inserted  the  three  bur¬ 
lesque  stanzas,  11-13;  but  similar  verses  are 
found  in  another  copy  (L  a),  and  might  easily 
be  extemporized  by  any  singer  of  sufficiently 
bad  taste.  Wit  and  Drollery,  the  edition  of 
1682,  has  an  almost  identical  copy  of  the  bal¬ 
lad,  and  this  is  repeated  in  Dryden's  Miscel¬ 
lany,  edition  of  1716,  Part  ill,  p.  316.  In  1781 
Pinkerton  inserted  in  his  Tragic  Ballads  one 
with  the  title  ‘  Binnorie,’  purporting  to  be 
from  Scottish  tradition.  Of  twenty-eight  coup¬ 
lets,  barely  seven  are  genuine.  Scott  printed 
in  1802  a  copy  (C)  compounded  from  one  “  in 
Mrs  Brown’s  MS.”  (B  b)  and  a  fragment  of 
fourteen  stanzas  which  had  been  transcribed 
from  recitation  by  Miss  Charlotte  Brooke, 
adopting  a  burden  found  in  neither. f  Jamie¬ 
son  followed,  four  years  after,  with  a  tolera¬ 
bly  faithful,  though  not,  as  he  says,  verbatim , 
publication  of  his  copy  of  Mrs  Brown’s  ballad, 
somewhat  marred,  too,  by  acknowledged  in¬ 
terpolations.  This  text  of  Mrs  Brown’s  is 
now  correctly  given,  with  the  whole  or  frag¬ 
ments  of  eleven  others,  hitherto  unpublished. 

The  ballad  is  as  popular  with  the  Scandi¬ 
navians  as  with  their  Saxon  cousins.  Grundt- 
vig,  ‘  Den  talende  Strengeleg,’  No  95,  gives 
nine  Danish  versions  and  one  stanza  of  a  tenth ; 
seven,  A-E,  in  n,  507  ff,  the  remainder,  H-K, 

*  Jamieson,  in  his  Popular  Ballads,  ii,  315,  prints  the  bal¬ 
lad,  with  five  inconsiderable  variations  from  the  broadside, 
its  from  Musarum  Delicim,  2d  edition,  1656.  The  careful 
reprint  of  this  book,  and  of  the  same  edition,  in  “  Facetise,” 
etc.,  1817,  does  not  contain  this  piece,  and  the  first  edition, 
of  1655,  differed  in  no  respect  as  to  contents,  according  to 
the  editor  of  “  Facetiae”  Still  it  is  hardly  credible  that 
Jamieson  has  blundered,  and  we  may  suppose  that  copies, 
ostensibly  of  the  same  edition,  varied  as  to  contents,  a  thing 
common  enough  with  old  books. 

t  Cunningham  has  re-written  Scott’s  version,  Songs  of 
Scotland,  n,  109,  ‘The  Two  Fair  Sisters.’  He  says,  “I 


in  hi,  875  ff.  One  more,  L,  is  added  by  Ivris- 
tensen,  No  96,  I,  253.  Of  these,  only  E  had 
been  previously  printed.  All  are  from  tra¬ 
dition  of  this  century. 

There  are  two  Icelandic  versions,  A  from 
the  17th,  B  from  the  19th,  century,  printed 
in  Islenzk  FornkvceSi,  No  13,  ‘  Horpu  kvceSi.’ 

Of  twelve  Norwegian  versions,  A,  by  Moe, 
“  is  printed  in  Norske  Universitets  og  Skole- 
Annaler  for  1850,  p.  287,”  and  in  Moe’s  Sam- 
lede  Skrifter,  n,  118,  ‘  Das  bur  ein  Mann  beer 
utmae  Aa  ;  ’  B,  by  Lindeman,  Annaler,  as  be¬ 
fore,  “p.  496,”  and  in  his  Norske  Fjeldmelodier, 
vol.  I,  Tekst-Bilag,  p.  4,  No  14,  ‘  Dei  tvse  Sys- 
ta ;  ’  C,  by  Landstad,  ‘  Dei  tvo  systar,’  No  53, 
p.  480  ;  D-L  are  described  by  Professor  Bugge 
in  Grundtvig,  m,  877  f  ;  M  “  is  printed  in  II- 
lustreret  Nyliedsblads  Nytaarsgave  for  1860, 
p.  77,  Christiania.” 

Four  Faroe  versions  are  known  :  A,  ‘  Horpu- 
rfma,’  “in  Svabo’s  MS.,  No  16,  I,  291,”  incor¬ 
rectly  printed  by  Afzelius,  I,  86,  and  accu¬ 
rately,  from  a  copy  furnished  by  Grundtvig, 
in  Bergstrom’s  edition  of  Afzelius,  n,  69 ;  B, 
a  compound  of  two  versions  taken  down  by 
Pastor  Lyngbye  and  by  Pastor  Schroter,  in 
Nyeste  Skilderie  af  Kjobenhavn,  1821,  col. 
997  ff  ;  C,  a  transcript  from  recitation  by  Ham- 
mershaimb  (Grundtvig)  ;  D,  “  in  Fugloyjar- 
b6k,  No  31.” 

Swedish  versions  are  :  A,  ‘  Den  underbara 
Harpan,’  Afzelius,  No  17,  I,  81,  new  ed.,  No 
16,  l,  I,  72  :  B,  ‘De  tva  Systrarne,’  Afzelius, 
No  69,  ill,  16,  new  ed.,  No  16,  2,1,  74:  C, 

D,  E,  unprinted  copies  in  Cavallius  and  Ste¬ 
phens’s  collection  :  F,  ‘  De  tva  Systrarne,’  Ar- 
widsson,  No  99,  II,  139 :  G,  ‘  Systermordet,’ 

E.  Wigstrom,  Skanska  Visor,  p.  4,  and  the 
same,  Folkdiktning,  etc.,  No  7,  p.  19 :  H, 

was  once  deeply  touched  with  the  singing  of  this  romantic 
and  mournful  song.  ...  I  have  ventured  to  print  it  in  the 
manner  I  heard  it  sung.”  There  is,  to  be  sure,  no  reason 
why  he  should  not  have  heard  his  own  song  sung,  once,  and 
still  less  why  he  should  not  have  been  deeply  touched  with 
his  own  pathos.  Cunningham  adds  one  genuine  stanza, 
resembling  the  first  of  G,  J,  P : 

Two  fair  sisters  lived  in  a  bower, 

Hey  ho  my  nonnie  O 
There  came  a  knight  to  be  their  wooer. 

While  the  swan  swims  bonnie  O 


120 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


Rancken,  Nagra  Prof  af  Folksang,  No  3,  p. 
10.  Afzelius,  .moreover,  gives  variations  from 
four  other  copies  which  he  had  collected,  hi, 
20  if,  new  ed.,  II,  74  ff;  and  Rancken  from 
three  others.  Both  of  the  editors  of  the  new 
Afzelius  have  recently  obtained  excellent  copies 
from  singers.  The  ballad  has  also  been  found 
in  Finnish,  Bergstrom’s  Afzelius,  n,  79. 

There  is  a  remarkable  agreement  between 
the  Norse  and  English  ballads  till  we  ap¬ 
proach  the  conclusion  of  the  story,  with  a 
natural  diversity  as  to  some  of  the  minuter 
details. 

The  sisters  are  king’s  daughters  in  English 
A,  B,  C,  H,  O  (?),  P,  Q,  R  a,  and  in  Swed¬ 
ish  B  and  two  others  of  Afzelius’s  versions. 
The)^  are  an  earl’s  daughters  in  Swedish  F, 
and  sink  to  farmer’s  daughters  in  English 
R  b,  c ,*  Swedish  A,  G,  Norwegian  C. 

It  is  a  thing  made  much  of  in  most  of  the 
Norse  ballads  that  the  younger  sister  is  fair 
and  the  older  dark  ;  the  younger  is  bright  as 
the  sun,  as  white  as  ermine  or  as  milk,  the  elder 
black  as  soot,  black  as  the  earth,  Icelandic 
A,  Swedish  A,  B,  G,  Danish  A,  D,  etc.  ;  and 
this  difference  is  often  made  the  ground  for 
very  unhandsome  taunts,  which  qualify  our 
compassion  for  the  younger;  such  as  Wash 
all  day,  and  you  will  be  no  whiter  than  God 
made  you,  Wash  as  white  as  you  please,  you 
will  never  get  a  lover,  Faroe  A,  B,  Nor¬ 
wegian  A,  C,  etc.  This  contrast  may  possibly 
be  implied  in  “  the  youngest  was  the  fairest 
flower,”  English  F,  G,  Q  [“  sweetest,  ”  D],  but 
is  expressed  only  in  M,  “  Ye  was  fair  and  I 
was  din  ”  (dun),  and  in  P  a,  “  The  old  was 
black  and  the  young  ane  fair.” 

The  scene  of  action  is  a  seashore  in  Ice¬ 
landic  and  Faroe  A,  B,  Norwegian  A,  Swedish 
A,  B,  G,  H,  and  in  all  the  Danish  complete 
copies :  a  seashore,  or  a  place  where  ships 
come  in,  in  English  A,  B  a,  D-I,  Q,  R  a,  T,  but 
in  all  save  the  last  of  these  (the  last  is  only 
one  stanza)  we  have  the  absurdity  of  a  body 

*  English  M  is  confused  on  this  point.  The  sisters  live 
in  a  hall.  The  burden  in  st.  1  makes  them  love  a  miller-lad ; 
but  in  14, 15,  calls  the  drowned  girl  “  the  bonnie  miller’s-lass 
o  Binorie.” 

t  The  sisters,  D,  I,  walk  by,  up,  a  linn ;  G,  go  to  a  sand 
[strand]  ;  Q,  go  to  the  stream  ;  R  a,  walk  on  the  bryn. 


drowned  in  navigable  water  being  discovered 
floating  down  a  mill-stream. f  Bellas  “the 
deep  mill-dam ;  ”  C  “  the  river-strand,”  per¬ 
haps  one  of  Scott’s  changes ;  M,  “  the  dams  ;  ” 
L,  O,  P,  R  b  c,  a  river,  Tweed  mill-dam, 
or  the  water  of  Tweed.  Norwegian  B  has  a 
river. 

The  pretence  for  the  older  sister’s  taking 
the  younger  down  to  the  water  is  in  Eng¬ 
lish  A-E,  G,  H,  I,  O,  Q,  to  see  their  father’s 
ships  come  in  ;  in  Icelandic  B  to  wash  their 
silks  ;  |  in  most  of  the  Noi'se  ballads  to  wash 
themselves,  so  that,  as  the  elder  says,  “  we 
may  be  alike  white,”  Danish  C-H,  Norwegian 

A,  C,  Swedish  F,  G,  Faroe  A,  B.  Malice  pre¬ 
pense  is  attributed  to  the  elder  in  Swedish  B, 
F,  Norwegian  C,  Danish  E,  F,  G  :  but  in  Fa¬ 
roe  A,  B,  Norwegian  A,  B,  and  perhaps  some 
other  cases,  a  previous  evil  intent  is  not  cer¬ 
tain,  and  the  provocations  of  the  younger  sister 
may  excuse  the  elder  so  far. 

The  younger  is  pushed  from  a  stone  upon 
which  she  sits,  stands,  or  steps,  in  English  B, 
C,  E-H,  M,  O,  Q,  Icelandic  A,  B,  Faroe  A, 

B,  Norwegian  A,  B,  C,  Danish  A-E,  H,  L, 
Swedish  G,  H,  and  Rancken’s  other  copies. 

The  drowning;  scene  is  the  same  in  all  the 
ballads,  except  as  to  one  point.  The  younger 
sister,  to  save  her  life,  offers  or  consents  to 
renounce  her  lover  in  the  larger  number,  as 
English  B-E,  G,  H,  I,  M,  P,  Q,  Danish  A-D, 
F,  G,  I,  Swedish  A-D,  G,  H  ;  and  in  Icelandic 
B  and  “  all  the  Faroe  ”  ballads  she  finally 
yields,  after  first  saying  that  her  lover  must 
dispose  of  himself.  But  Swedish  F,  with 
more  spirit,  makes  the  girl,  after  promising 
everything  else,  reply  : 

‘  Help  then  who  can,  help  God  above  ! 

But  ne’er  shalt  thou  get  my  dear  true-love.’ 

In  this  refusal  concur  Icelandic  A,  Danish 
E,  H,  L,  and  all  the  Norwegian  versions  ex¬ 
cept  L. 

Swedish  A,  G,  and  Rancken’s  versions  (or 

J  Swedish  H  begins,  “  Dear  sister,  come  follow  me  to  the 
clapping-stone:”  “  Nay,  I  have  no  foul  clothes.”  So  F  6,  7, 
G  4,  5,  Faroe  A  6,  nearly;  and  then  follows  the  suggestion 
that  they  should  wash  themselves.  Another  of  Rancken’s 
copies  begins,  “  Two  sisters  went  to  the  bucking-stone,  to  buck 
their  clothes  snow-white,”  H ;  and  so  Ranckeu’s  S  nearly. 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


121 


two  of  them)  make  the  younger  sister,  when 
she  sees  that  she  must  drown,  send  greetings 
to  her  father,  mother,  true-love  [also  brother, 
sister,  Rancken],  and  add  in  each  case  that 
she  is  drinking,  or  clancing,  her  bridal  in  the 
flood,  that  her  bridal-bed  is  made  on  the  white- 
sand,  etc. 

The  body  of  the  drowned  girl  is  discovered, 
in  nearly  all  the  English  ballads,  by  some 
member  of  the  miller’s  household,  and  is 
taken  out  of  the  water  by  the  miller.  In  L  b, 
which,  however,  is  imperfect  at  the  beginning, 
a  harper  finds  the  body.  In  the  Icelandic  bal¬ 
lads  it  is  found  on  the  seashore  by  the  lover ; 
in  all  the  Norwegian  but  M  by  two  fishermen, 
as  also  in  Swedish  D  [fishermen  in  Swedish 
B]  ;  in  all  the  Faroe  versions  and  Norwegian 
M  by  two  “  pilgrims  ;  ”  *  in  Danish  A-F,  L, 
and  Swedish  C  by  two  musicians,  Danish  H, 
Swedish  A,  G,  one.  Danish  G,  which  is  cor¬ 
rupted  at  the  close,  has  three  musicians,  but 
these  simply  witness  and  report  the  drowning. 

According  to  all  complete  and  uncorrupted 
forms  of  the  ballad,  either  some  part  of  the 
body  of  the  drowned  girl  is  taken  to  furnish 
a  musical  instrument,  a  harp  or  a  viol,|  or 
the  instrument  is  wholly  made  from  the  body. 
This  is  done  in  the  Norse  ballads  by  those  who 
first  find  the  body,  save  in  Swedish  B,  where 
fishermen  draw  the  body  ashore,  and  a  passing 
“  speleman  ”  makes  the  instrument.  In  Eng¬ 
lish  it  is  done  by  the  miller,  A  ;  by  a  harper, 
B,  C,  G,  L  b  (the  king's  harper  in  B)  ;  by  a 
fiddler,  D,  E,  I,  L  a  (?),  O,  P  (the  king's 
fiddler,  O  (?),  P)  ;  by  both  a  fiddler  and  the 
king’s  harper,  H  ;  in  F  by  the  father’s  herds¬ 
man,  who  happens  to  be  a  fiddler. 

Perhaps  the  original  conception  was  the 
simple  and  beautiful  one  which  we  find  in 
English  B  and  both  the  Icelandic  ballads,  that 

*  There  are,  besides  the  two  fishermen,  in  Norwegian  A, 
two  “  twaddere,”  i.  e.,  landloupers,  possibly  (Bugge)  a  cor¬ 
ruption  of  the  word  rendered  pilgrims,  Faroe  vallarar,  Swed¬ 
ish  vallare.  The  vallarar  in  these  ballads  are  perhaps  more 
respectable  than  those  whose  acquaintance  we  shall  make 
through  the  Norse  versions  of  ‘  Babylon,’  and  may  be  al¬ 
lowed  to  be  harmless  vagrants,  but  scarcely  better,  seeing 
that  they  are  ranked  with  “  staff-carls  ”  in  Norges  Gamle 
Love,  cited  by  Cleasbv  and  Vigfusson  at '  vallari.’ 

t  A  harp  in  the  Icelandic  and  Norwegian  ballads,  Faroe 
A,  B,  C,  Swedish  A,  B,  D,  G,  H  ;  a  harp  in  English  B, 

16 


the  king’s  harper,  or  the  girl’s  lover,  takes 
three  locks  of  her  yellow  hair  to  string  his 
harp  with.  So  we  find  three  tets  of  hair  in  D, 
E,  I,  and  three  links  in  F,  P,  used,  or  directed 
to  be  used,  to  string  the  fiddle  or  the  fiddle- 
bow,  and  the  same,  apparently,  with  Danish  A. 
Infelicitous  additions  were,  perhaps,  succes¬ 
sively  made ;  as  a  harp-frame  from  the  breast¬ 
bone  in  English  C,  and  fiddle-pins  formed  of 
the  finger-joints,  English  F,  O,  Danish  B,  C, 

E,  F,  L.  Then  we  have  all  three :  the  frame 
of  the  instrument  formed  from  the  breast  (or 
trunk),  the  screws  from  the  finger-joints,  the 
strings  from  the  hair,  Swedish  A,  B,  G,  Nor¬ 
wegian  A,  C,  M.  And  so  one  thing  and  another 
is  added,  or  substituted,  as  fiddle-bows  of  the 
arms  or  legs,  Swedish  C,  D,  Danish  H,  Eng¬ 
lish  L  a ;  a  harp-frame  from  the  arms,  Nor¬ 
wegian  B,  Faroe  A  ;  a  fiddle-frame  from  the 
skull,  Swedish  C,  or  from  the  back-bone,  Eng¬ 
lish  Lb;  a  plectrum  from  the  arm,  Faroe  B ; 
strings  from  the  veins,  English  A  ;  a  bridge 
from  the  nose,  English  A,  L  a  ;  “horponota” 
from  the  teeth,  Norwegian  B  ;  till  we  end 
with  the  buffoonery  of  English  A  and  L  a. 

Swedish  H  has  nothing  about  the  finding 
of  the  body.  Music  is  wanted  for  the  bri¬ 
dal,  and  a  man  from  another  village,  who  un¬ 
dertakes  to  furnish  it,  looks  three  days  for  a 
proper  tree  to  make  a  harp  of.  The  singer 
of  this  version  supplied  the  information,  lost 
from  the  ballad,  that  the  drowned  sister  had 
floated  ashore  and  grown  up  into  a  linden,  and 
that  this  was  the  very  tree  which  was  chosen 
for  the  harp.  (See,  further  on,  a  Lithuanian, 
a  Slovak,  and  an  Esthonian  ballad.) 

All  the  Norse  ballads  make  the  harp  or  fid¬ 
dle  to  be  taken  to  a  wedding,  which  chances 
to  be  that  of  the  elder  sister  with  the  drowned 
girl’s  betrothed.^  Unfortunately,  many  of  the 

C,  G,  J.  A  harp  is  not  named  in  any  of  the  Danish  ver¬ 
sions,  but  a  fiddle  is  mentioned  in  C,  E,  H,  is  plainly  meant 
in  A,  and  may  always  be  intended ;  or  perhaps  two  fiddles  in 
all  but  H  (which  has  only  one  fiddler),  and  the  corrupted  G. 
D  begins  with  two  fiddlers,  but  concludes  with  only  one. 
We  have  a  fiddle  in  Swedish  C,  and  in  English  A,  D,  E, 

F,  I,  J,  K,  L,  O,  P  ;  both  harp  and  fiddle  in  H. 

f  Some  of  the  unprinted  Norwegian  ballads  are  not  com¬ 
pletely  described,  but  a  departure  from  the  rule  of  the  major 
part  would  probably  have  been  alluded  to. 


122 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


English  versions  are  so  injured  towards  the 
close  that  the  full  story  cannot  be  made  out. 
There  is  no  wedding-feast  preserved  in  any 
of  them.  The  instrument,  in  A,  B,  C,  H,  is 
taken  into  the  king’s  presence.  The  viol  in 
A  and  the  harp  in  H  are  expressly  said  to 
speak.  The  harp  is  laid  upon  a  stone  in  C, 

J,  and  plays  “  its  lone ;  ”  the  fiddle  plays  of 
itself  in  L  b.*  B  makes  the  harper  play,  and 
D,  F,  K,  O,  which  say  the  fiddle  played, 
probably  mean  that  there  was  a  fiddler,  and 
so  perhaps  with  all  the  Norse  versions;  but 
this  is  not  very  material,  since  in  either  case 
the  instrument  speaks  “  with  most  miraculous 
organ.” 

There  are  three  strings  made  from  the  girl’s 
hair  in  Icelandic  A,  B,  English  B  [veins, 
English  A],  and  the  three  tets  or  links  in 
English  D,  E,  F,  I,  P  were  no  doubt  taken 
to  make  three  strings  originally.  Correspond¬ 
ing  to  this  are  three  enunciations  of  the  in¬ 
strument  in  English  A,  B,  C,  Icelandic  A, 
Faroe  A,f  B,  Swedish  A,  B,  C,  E,  G,  H, 
Danish  A,  D,  F,  I.  These  are  reduced  to 
two  in  Icelandic  B,  Danish  B,  C,  H,  L,  Swed¬ 
ish  D,  and  even  to  one  in  English  D,  F,  I, 

K,  O,  but  some  of  these  have  suffered  injury 
towards  the  conclusion.  The  number  is  in¬ 
creased  to  four  in  Norwegian  B,  to  five  in 
Norwegian  A,  D,  and  even  to  six  in  Norwegian 
C,  K,  M.  The  increase  is,  of  course,  a  later 
exaggeration,  and  very  detrimental  to  the 
effect.  In  those  English  copies  in  which  the 
instrument  speaks  but  once,  J  D,  F,  K,  O,  and 
we  may  add  P,  it  expresses  a  desire  for  ven¬ 
geance  :  Hang  my  sister,  D,  F,  K ;  Ye  ’ll 
drown  my- sister,  as  she’s  dune  me,  O  ;  Tell 
him  to  burn  my  sister,  P.  This  is  found-  in 
no  Norse  ballad,  neither  is  it  found  in  the 
earliest  English  versions.  These,  and  the  bet¬ 
ter  forms  of  the  Norse,  reveal  the  awful  se¬ 
cret,  directly  or  indirectly,  and,  in  the  latter 
case,  sometimes  note  the  effect  on  the  bride. 
Thus,  in  Icelandic  B,  the  first  string  sounds, 

*  The  stanza,  9,  in  which  this  is  said  is  no  doubt  as  to  its 
form  entirely  modern,  but  not  so  the  idea.  I  has  “  the  first 
spring  that  he  playd,  it  said,”  etc. 

t  The  fourth  string  is  said  to  speak  in  Faroe  A  30,  but 
no  utterance  is  recorded,  and  this  is  likely  to  be  a  mistake. 


The  bride  is  our  sister ;  the  second,  The  bride 
is  our  murderer.  In  Danish  B  the  first  fiddle 
plays,  The  bride  is  my  sister  ;  the  second,  The 
bridegroom  is  my  true-love  ;  in  C,  H,  the  first 
strain  is,  The  bride  has  drowned  her  sister, 
the  second,  Thy  sister  is  driven  [blown]  to 
land.  Faroe  A,  B,  have  :  (1)  The  bride  was 
my  sister ;  (2)  The  bride  was  my  murderer ; 
(3)  The  bridegroom  was  my  true-love.  The 
bride  then  says  that  the  harp  disturbs  her 
much,  and  that  she  lists  to  hear  it  no  more. 
Most  impressive  of  all,  with  its  terse,  short 
lines,  is  Icelandic  A  : 

The  first  string  made  response  : 

‘  The  bride  was  my  sister  once.’ 

The  bride  on  the  bench,  she  spake  : 

1  The  harp  much  trouble  doth  make.’ 

The  second  string  answered  the  other  : 

‘  She  is  parting  me  and  my  lover.’ 

Answered  the  bride,  red  as  gore  : 

‘  The  harp  is  vexing  us  sore.’ 

The  canny  third  string  replied  : 

‘  I  owe  my  death  to  the  bride.’ 

He  made  all  the  harp-strings  clang  ; 

The  bride’s  heart  burst  with  the  pang. 

This  is  the  wicked  sister’s  end  in  both  of 
the  Icelandic  ballads  and  in  Faroe  A,  B.  In 
Swedish  A,  G,  at  the  first  stroke  on  the  harp 
she  laughs ;  at  the  second  she  grows  pale  [has 
to  be  undressed]  ;  upon  the  third  she  lay  dead 
in  her  bed  [falls  dead  on  the  floor].  She  is 
burned  in  Danish  A,  B,  C,  F,  G,  Swedish  B, 
Norwegian  A,  B,  C,  I,  M.  In  Norwegian  K, 
L,  the  younger  sister  (who  is  restored  to  life) 
begs  that  the  elder  may  not  be  burned,  but 
sent  out  of  the  country  (cf.  English  R  b  c)  ; 
nevertheless,  she  is  buried  alive  in  L,  which 
is  her  - fate  also  in  E,  and  in  other  unprinted 
versions.  A  prose  comment  upon  Danish  I 
has  her  stabbed  by  the  bridegroom. 

In  many  of  the  versions,  and  in  this,  after  the  strings  have 
spoken  individually,  they  unite  in  a  powerful  but  inarticu¬ 
late  concord. 

f  I  has  lost  the  terminal  stanzas. 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


123 


Norwegian  B  21  makes  the  bride,  in  her 
confusion  at  the  revelations  of  the  harp,  ask 
the  bridegroom  to  drive  the  fiddler  out  of  the 
house.  So  far  from  complying,  the  bride¬ 
groom  orders  him  mead  and  wine,  and  the 
bride  to  the  pile.  In  Norwegian  C  the  bride 
treads  on  the  harper’s  foot,  then  orders  the 
playing  to  stop ;  but  the  bridegroom  springs 
from  the  table,  and  cries,  Let  the  harp  have  its 
song  out,  pays  no  regard  to  the  lady’s  alleging 
that  she  has  so  bad  a  head  that  she  cannot  bear 
it,  and  finally  sends  her  to  the  pile.  So,  near¬ 
ly,  Norwegian  A.  In  Danish  A,  C,  D,  H,  L, 
vainly  in  the  first  two,  the  bride  tries  to  hush 
the  fiddler  with  a  bribe.  He  endeavors  to  take 
back  what  he  has  said  in  D,  L,  declaring  him¬ 
self  a  drunken  fool  (the  passage  is  borrowed 
from  another  ballad)  :  still  in  L,  though  suc¬ 
cessful  for  the  nonce,  she  comes  to  the  stake 
and  wheel  some  months  after.  In  H  the  fid¬ 
dler  dashes  the  instrument  against  a  stone, 
seemingly  to  earn  his  bribe,  but  this  trait  be¬ 
longs  to  versions  which  take  the  turn  of  the 
Norwegian.  In  C  15  the  bride  springs  from 
the  table,  and  says,  Give  the  fiddlers  a  trifle, 
and  let  them  go.  This  explains  the  last 
stanza  of  English  A  (cf.,  Norwegian  B  21) : 

Now  pay  the  miller  for  his  payne, 

And  let  him  hee  gone  in  the  divel’s  name. 

Swedish  F  has  an  entirely  perverted  and 
feeble  conclusion.  “  A  good  man  ”  takes  the 
younger  sister  from  the  water,  carries  her  to 
his  house,  revives  her,  and  nurses  her  till  the 
morrow,  and  then  restores  her  to  her  father, 
who  asks  why  she  is  so  pale,  and  why  she 
had  not  come  back  with  her  sister.  She  ex¬ 
plains  that  she  had  been  pushed  into  the  wa¬ 
ter,  “  and  we  may  thank  this  good  man  that 
I  came  home  at  all.”  The  father  tells  the 
elder  that  she  is  a  disgrace  to  her  country, 
and  condemns  her  to  the  “  blue  tower.”  But 
her  sister  intercedes,  and  a  cheerful  and  hand¬ 
some  wedding  follows. 

Swedish  C  and  nearly  all  the  Norwegian 

*  Not  M,  and  apparently  not  D,  which  ends  : 

When  he  kissed  the  harp  upon  the  mouth,  his  heart  broke. 

t  So  the  traitor  John  pushes  away  Catherine’s  hands  in 


ballads  *  restore  the  drowned  girl  to  life,  but 
not  by  those  processes  of  the  Humane  Society 
which  are  successfully  adopted  by  the  “  arlig 
man  ”  in  Swedish  F.  The  harp  is  dashed 
against  a  stone,  or  upon  the  floor,  and  the  girl 
stands  forth  “  as  good  as  ever.”  As  Landstad 
conceives  the  matter  (484,  note  7),  the  elder 
sister  is  a  witch,  and  is  in  the  end  burned  as 
such.  The  white  body  of  the  younger  is  made 
to  take  on  the  appearance  of  a  crooked  log, 
which  the  fishermen  (who,  by  the  way,  are 
angels  in  C,  E)  innocently  shape  into  a  harp, 
and  the  music,  vibrating  from  her  hair 
“  through  all  her  limbs,  marrow  and  bone,” 
acts  as  a  disenchantment.  However  this  may 
be,  the  restoration  of  the  younger  sister,  like 
all  good  endings  foisted  on  tragedies,  emas¬ 
culates  the  story. 

English  F  9  has  the  peculiarity,  not  noticed 
elsewhere,  that  the  drowning  girl  catches  at  a 
broom-root,  and  the  elder  sister  forces  her  to 
let  go  her  hold.f  In  Swedish  Gf  she  is  simply 
said  to  swim  to  an  alder-root.  In  English  G  8 
the  elder  drives  the  younger  from  the  land 
with  a  switch,  in  I  8  pushes  her  off  with  a  sil¬ 
ver  wand. 

English  O  introduces  the  ghost  of  the  drowned 
sister  as  instructing  her  father’s  fiddler  to  make 
a  string  of  her  hair  and  a  peg  of  her  little 
finger  bone,  which  done,  the  first  spring  the 
fiddle  plays,  it  says, 

1  Ye  ’ll  drown  my  sister  as  she ’s  dune  me.’ 

P,  which  is  disordered  at  the  end,  seems  to 
have  agreed  with  O.  In  Q  the  ghost  sends, 
by  the  medium  of  the  miller  and  his  daugh¬ 
ter,  respects  to  father,  mother,  and  true-love, 
adding  a  lock  of  yellow  hair  for  the  last.  The 
ghost  is  found  in  N,  Pinkerton’s  copy,  as 
well,  but  there  appears  to  the  lover  at  dead  of 
night,  two  days  after  the  drowning.  It  in¬ 
forms  him  of  the  murder,  and  he  makes  search 
for  the  body.  This  is  a  wide  departure  from 
the  original  story,  and  plainly  a  modern  per¬ 
version.  Another  variation,  entirely  wanting 

‘Lady  Isabel  and  the  Elf  Knight,’  Polish  Q  25  (see  p.  40). 
In  the  French  versions  A,  C,  E  of  the  same,  the  knight 
catches  at  a  branch  to  save  himself,  and  the  lady  cuts  it  off 
with  his  sword. 


124 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


in  ancient  authority,  appears  in  R,  S.  The 
girl  is  not  dead  when  she  has  floated  down 
to  the  mill-dam,  and,  being  drawn  out  of  the 
water  by  the  miller,  offers  him  a  handsome 
reward  to  take  her  back  to  her  father  [S, 
to  throw  her  in  again!].  The  miller  takes 
the  reward,  and  pushes  the  girl  in  again,  for 
which  he  is  hanged.* 

Q  has  a  burden  partly  Gaelic, 

....  ohone  and  aree  (alack  and  0  Lord), 

On  the  banks  of  the  Banna  (White  River), 
ohone  and  aree, 

which  may  raise  a  question  whether  the  Scotch 
burden  Binnorie  (pronounced  Binnorie,  as  well 
as  Binnorie)  is  corrupted  from  it,  or  the  cor¬ 
ruption  is  on  the  other  side.  Mr  Campbell 
notices  as  quaint  the  reply  in  stanza  9  : 

‘  I  did  not  put  you  in  with  the  design 
Just  for  to  pull  you  out  again.’ 

We  have  had  a  similar  reply,  made  under  like 
circumstances,  in  Polish  versions  of  No  4  :  see 
p.  40,  note. 

All  the  Norse  versions  of  this  ballad  are  in 
two-line  stanzas,  and  all  the  English,  except 
L  b  and  in  part  L  a. 

Some  of  the  traits  of  the  English  and  Norse 
story  are  presented  by  an  Esthonian  ballad, 
‘The Harp,’  Neus, Ehstnische Volkslieder,  No 
13,  p.  56.  Another  version  is  given  in  Ro- 
senplanter’s  Beitrage  zur  genauern  Kenntniss 
der  ehstnischen  Sprache,  Heft  4,  142,  and  a 
third,  says  Neus,  in  Ch.  H.  J.  Schlegel’s  Reisen 
in  mehrere  russische  Gouvernements,  v,  140. 
A  young  woman,  who  tells  her  own  story,  is 
murdered  by  her  sisters-in-law  and  buried  in 
a  moor.  She  comes  up  as  a  birch,  from  which, 
with  the  jaw-bone  of  a  salmon,  the  teeth  of  a 
pike,  and  her  own  hair  (the  account  is  some¬ 
what  confused)  a  harp  is  made.  The  harp  is 
taken  to  the  hall  by  the  murdered  girl’s  broth¬ 
er,  and  responds  to  his  playing  with  tones  of 
sorrow  like  those  of  the  bride  who  leaves  fa¬ 
ther  and  mother  for  the  house  of  a  husband. f 

*  The  miller  begins  to  lose  character  in  H  : 

14  He  dragged  her  out  unto  the  shore, 

And  stripped  her  of  all  she  wore, 
t  Neus  also  refers  to  an  Esthonian  saga  of  Rogutaja’s 


A  Slovak  ballad  often  translated  (Talvj, 
Historical  View,  etc.,  p.  392;  Wenzig’s  Sla- 
wische  Volkslieder,  p.  110,  Westslawischer 
Marchenschatz,  273,  and  Bibliothek  Slavischer 
Poesien,  p.  134;  Lewestam,  Polnische  Volk- 
sagen  und  March  eh,  p.  151)  comes  nearer  in 
some  respects.  A  daughter  is  cursed  by  her 
mother  for  not  succeeding  in  drawing  water  in 
frosty  weather.  Her  bucket  turns  to  stone, 
but  she  to  a  maple.  Two  fiddlers  come  by, 
and,  seeing  a  remarkably  fine  tree,  propose  to 
make  of  it  fiddles  and  fiddle-sticks.  When 
they  cut  into  the  tree,  blood  spirts  out.  The 
tree  bids  them  go  on,  and  when  they  have 
done,  play  before  the  mother’s  door,  and  sing, 
Here  is  your  daughter,  that  you  cursed  to 
stone.  At  the  first  notes  the  mother  runs 
to  the  window,  and  begs  them  to  desist,  for  she 
has  suffered  much  since  she  lost  her  daughter. 

The  soul  of  a  dead  girl  speaks  through  a  tree, 
again,  in  a  Lithuanian  ballad,  Nesselmann, 
Littauische  Volkslieder,  No  378,  p.  320.  The 
girl  is  drowned  while  attempting  to  cross  a 
stream,  carried  down  to  the  sea,  and  finally 
thrown  ashore,  where  she  grows  up  a  linden. 
Her  brother  makes  a  pipe  from  a  branch,  and 
the  pipe  gives  out  sweet,  sad  tones.  The 
mother  says,  That  tone  comes  not  from  the 
linden ;  it  is  thy  sister’s  soul,  that  hovers  over 
the  water.  A  like  idea  is  met  with  in  another 
Lithuanian  ballad,  Rhesa,  Dainos,  ed.  Kur- 
schat,  No  85,  p.  231.  A  sister  plucks  a  bud 
from  a  rose-bush  growing  over  the  grave  of 
her  brother,  who  had  died  from  disappointed 
love.  How  fragyant !  she  exclaims.  But  her 
mother  answers,  with  tears,  It  is  not  the  rose¬ 
bud,  but  the  soul  of  the  youth  that  died  of 
grief. 

Though  the  range  of  the  ballad  proper  is 
somewhat  limited,  popular  tales  equivalent  as 
to  the  characteristic  circumstances  are  very 
widely  diffused. 

A  Polish  popular  tale,  which  is,  indeed,  half 
song,  Wojcicki,  Klechdy,  ed.  1851,  H,  15 
(Lewestam,  p.  105),  Kolberg,  Piesni  ludu 

wife,  and  to  ‘  Die  Pfeiferin,’  a  tale,  in  Das  Inland,  1846,  No 
48,  Beilage,  col.  1246  ff,  1851,  No  14,  col.  230  ff;  and  to  a 
Slovenian  ballad  in  Tielemann,  Livona,  ein  historisch-po- 
etisches  Taschenbuch,  1812,  p.  187. 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


125 


Polskiego,  p.  292,  No  40  a,  b,  c,  approaches 
very  close  to  the  English-Norse  ballad.  There 
were  three  sisters,  all  pretty,  but  the  youngest 
far  surpassing  the  others.  A  young  man  from 
the  far-off  Ukraine  fell  in  with  them  while 
they  were  making  garlands.  The  youngest 
pleased  him  best,  and  he  chose  her  for  his 
wife.  This  excited  the  jealousy  of  the  eldest, 
and  a  few  days  after,  when  they  were  gather¬ 
ing  berries  in  a  wood,  she  killed  the  youngest, 
notwithstanding  the  resistance  of  the  second 
sister,  buried  her,  and  gave  out  that  she  had 
been  torn  to  pieces  by  wolves.  When  the 
youth  came  to  ask  after  his  love,  the  mur¬ 
deress  told  him  this  tale,  and  so  won  him  by 
her  devoted  consolations  that  he  offered  her 
his  hand.  A  willow  grew  out  of  the  grave  of 
the  youngest,  and  a  herdsman  made  a  pipe 
from  one  of  its  boughs.  Blow  as  he  would, 
he  could  get  no  sound  from  the  pipe  but  this : 

‘  Blow  on,  herdsman,  blow  !  God  shall  bless  thee 
so. 

The  eldest  was  my  slayer,  the  second  tried  to  stay 
her.’ 

The  herdsman  took  the  pipe  to  the  house  of 
the  murdered  girl.  The  mother,  the  father, 
and  the  second  sister  successively  tried  it, 
and  the  pipe  always  sang  a  like  song,  Blow, 
mother,  blow,  etc.  The  father  then  put  the 
pipe  into  the  eldest  sister’s  hands.  She  had 
hardly  touched  it,  when  blood  spattered  her 
cheeks,  and  the  pipe  sang  : 

*  Blow  on,  sister,  blow  :  God  shall  wreak  me  now. 
Thou,  sister,  ’t  was  didst  slay  me,  the  younger  tried 
to  stay  thee,’  etc. 

The  murderess  was  torn  by  wild  horses. 

Professor  Bugge  reports  a  Norwegian  tale, 
Grundtvig,  m,  878,  which  resembles  the  bal¬ 
lad  at  the  beginning.  There  were  in  a  fam¬ 
ily  two  daughters  and  a  son.  One  sister  was 
wasteful,  the  other  saving.  The  second  com¬ 
plained  of  the  first  to  her  parents,  and  was 
killed  and  buried  by  the  other.  Foliage  cov¬ 
ered  the  grave,  so  that  it  could  not  be  seen, 
but  on  the  trees  under  which  the  body  lay, 
there  grew  “  strings.”  These  the  brother  cut 
off  and  adapted  to  his  fiddle,  and  when  he 
played,  the  fiddle  said,  My  sister  is  killed. 


The  father,  having  heard  the  fiddle’s  revela¬ 
tion,  brought  his  daughter  to  confess  her  act. 

There  is  a  series  of  tales  which  represent  a 
king,  or  other  personage,  as  being  afflicted 
with  a  severe  malady,  and  as  promising  that 
whichever  of  his  children,  commonly  three 
sons,  should  bring  him  something  necessary 
for  his  cure  or  comfort  should  be  his  heir : 
(1)  ‘  La  Flor  del  Lilild,’  Fernan  Caballero, 
L&grimas,  cap.  4 ;  (2)  ‘  La  cana  del  riu  de 
arenas,’  Mild,  Observaciones  sobre  la  poesia 
popular,  p.  178,  No  3  ;  (3)  ‘  Es  kommt  doch 
einmal  an  den  Tag,’  Miillenhof,  Sagen,  u.  s. 
w.,  p.  495,  No  49  ;  (4)  ‘  Vom  singenden  Du- 
delsack,’  Gonzenbach,  Sicilianische  Marchen, 
I,  329,  No  51.  Or  the  inheritance  is  promised 
to  whichever  of  the  children  finds  something 
lost,  or  rich  and  rare,  a  griffin’s  feather,  a 
golden  branch,  a  flower :  (5)  ‘  Die  Greifen- 
feder,’  Schneller,  Marchen  und  Sagen  aus 
Walschtirol,  p.  143,  No  51 ;  (6)  ‘La  Flauuto,’ 
Blad6,  Contes  et  proverbes  populaires  re- 
cueillis  en  Armagnac,  p.  3,  No  1  ;  (7)  Wack- 
ernagel,  in  Haupt’s  Zeitschrift,  HI,  35,  No 
3,  =  ‘  Das  Todtebeindli,’  Colshorn,  C.  u. 
Th.,  Marchen  u.  Sagen,  p.  193,  No  71,=  Su- 
termeister,  Kinder-u.-Hausmarchen  aus  der 
Schweiz,  p.  119,  No  39.  Or  a  king  promises 
his  daughter  to  the  man  who  shall  capture  a 
dangerous  wild  beast,  and  the  exploit  is  un¬ 
dertaken  by  three  brothers  [or  two]  :  (8) 
‘  Der  singende  Knochen,’  Grimms,  K.  u.  H. 
marchen,  I,  149,  No  28  (1857)  ;  (9)  ‘  Die 
drei  Briider,’  Curtze,  Volksuberlieferungen 
aus  dem  Fiirstenthum  Waldeck,  p.  53,  No 
11 ;  (10)  ‘Der  Rohrstengel,’  Haltrich,  Deutsche 
Volksmarchen  aus  dem  Sacksenlande,  u.  s.  w., 
p.  225,  No  42.  With  these  we  may  group, 
though  divergent  in  some  respects,  (11)  ‘  Der 
goldene  Apfel,’  Toeppen,  Aberglauben  aus 
Masuren,  p.  139.*  In  all  these  tales  the  young¬ 
est  child  is  successful,  and  is  killed,  out  of 
envy,  by  the  eldest  or  by  the  two  elder. 
[There  are  only  two  children  in  (6),  (7), 
(8)  ;  in  (4)  the  second  is  innocent,  as  in  the 
Polish  tale.]  Reeds  grow  over  the  spot  where 
the  body  is  buried  (1),  (2),  (10),  (11),  or  an 

*  All  these  are  cited  in  Kohler’s  note,  Gonzenbach,  n, 
235. 


126 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


elder  bush  (3),  out  of  which  a  herdsman  makes 
a  pipe  or  flute ;  or  a  white  bone  is  found  by  a 
herdsman,  and  he  makes  a  pipe  or  horn  of  it 
(5-9)  ;  or  a  bag-pipe  is  made  of  the  bones  and 
skin  of  the  murdered  youth  (4).  The  instru¬ 
ment,  whenever  it  is  played,  attests  the  mur¬ 
der. 

Among  the  tales  of  the  South  African  Becli- 
uana,  there  is  one  of  a  younger  brother,  who 
has  been  killed  by  an  older,  immediately  ap¬ 
pearing  as  a  bird,  and  announcing  what  has  oc¬ 
curred.  The  bird  is  twice  killed,  and  the  last 
time  burnt  and  its  ashes  scattered  to  the  winds, 
but  still  reappears,  and  proclaims  that  his  body 
lies  by  a  spring  in  the  desert.  Grimms,  K. 
u.  H.  m.  hi,  361.  Liebrecht  has  noted  that 
the  fundamental  idea  is  found  in  a  Chinese 
drama,  ‘  The  Talking  Dish,’  said  to  be  based 
on  a  popular  tale.  An  innkeeper  and  his  wife 


kill  one  of  their  guests  for  his  money,  and 
burn  the  body.  The  innkeeper  collects  the 
ashes  and  pounds  the  bones,  and  makes  a  sort 
of  mortar  and  a  dish.  This  dish  speaks  very 
distinctly,  and  denounces  the  murderers.  Jour¬ 
nal  Asiatique,  1851,  4th  Series,  vol.  18,  p. 
523. 

Danish  A,  E  are  translated  by  Prior,  I,  381, 
384.  English  B,  with  use  of  C,  is  translated  by 
Grundtvig,  Engelske  og  skotske  Folkeviser, 
p.  104,  No  15  ;  C,  by  Afzelius,  III,  22.  C,  by 
Talvj,  Versuch,  u.  s.  w.,  p.  532;  by  Scliubart, 
p.  133  ;  by  Gerhard,  p.  143  ;  by  Doenniges, 
p.  81 ;  Arndt,  p.  238.  C,  with  use  of  Ay- 
toun’s  compounded  version,  by  R.  Warrens, 
Schottische  V.  L.  der  Vorzeit,  p.  65 ;  Ailing- 
ham’s  version  by  Knortz,  Lieder  u.  Romanzen 
Alt-Englands,  p.  180. 


A 

A.  a.  Broadside  “printed  for  Francis  Grove,  1656/’  re¬ 
printed  in  Notes  and  Queries,  1st  S.,  v,  591.  b.  Wit  Re¬ 
stor’d,  1658,  “p.  51,”  p.  153  of  the  reprint  of  1817.  c.  Wit 
and  Drollery,  ed.  1682,  p.  87,  =  Dryden’s  Miscellany,  Part 
3,  p.  316,  ed.  1716.  d.  Jamieson’s  Popular  Ballads,  i,  315. 

1  There  were  two  sisters,  they  went  playing, 

With  a  hie  downe  downe  a  downe-a 
To  see  their  father’s  ships  come  sayling  in. 
With  a  hy  downe  downe;  a  downJ-a 

2  And  when  they  came  unto  the  sea-hrym, 

The  elder  did  push  the  younger  in. 

3  ‘  0  sister,  0  sister,  take  me  hy  the  gowne, 

And  drawe  me  up  upon  the  dry  ground.’ 

4  ‘  O  sister,  O  sister,  that  may  not  bee, 

Till  salt  and  oatmeale  grow  both  of  a  tree.’ 

5  Somtymes  she  sanke,  somtymes  she  swam, 

Until  she  came  unto  the  mill-dam. 

6  The  miller  runne  hastily  downe  the  cliffe, 

And  up  he  betook  her  withouten  her  life. 

7  What  did  he  doe  with  her  brest-bone  ? 

He  made  him  a  violl  to  play  thereupon. 


8  What  did  he  doe  with  her  fingers  so  small  ? 
He  made  him  peggs  to  his  violl  withall. 

9  What  did  he  doe  with  her  nose-ridge  ? 

Unto  his  violl  he  made  him  a  bridge. 

10  What  did  he  doe  with  her  veynes  so  blew  ? 
He  made  him  strings  to  his  violl  thereto. 

11  What  did  he  doe  with  her  eyes  so  bright  ? 
Upon  his  violl  he  played  at  first  sight. 

12  What  did  he  doe  with  her  tongue  so  rough  ? 
Unto  the  violl  it  spake  enough. 

13  What  did  he  doe  with  her  two  shinnes  ? 

Unto  the  violl  they  danc’d  Moll  Syms. 

14  Then  bespake  the  treble  string, 

‘  0  yonder  is  my  father  the  king.’ 

15  Then  bespake  the  second  string, 

‘  O  yonder  sitts  my  mother  the  queen.’ 

16  And  then  bespake  the  strings  all  three, 

‘  0  yonder  is  my  sister  that  drowned  mee.’ 

17  ‘  Now  pay  the  miller  for  his  payne, 

And  let  him  bee  gone  in  the  divel’s  name.’ 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


127 


B 

a.  Jamieson-Brown  MS.,  fol.  39.  b.  Wm.  Ty tier’s  Brown 
MS.,  No  15.  c.  Abbotsford  MS.,  “  Scottish  Songs,”  fol.  21. 
d.  Jamieson’s  Popular  Ballads,  i,  48. 

1  There  was  twa  sisters  in  a  bowr, 

Edinburgh,  Edinburgh 
There  was  twa  sisters  in  a  bowr, 

Stirling  for  ay 

There  was  twa  sisters  in  a  bowr, 

There  came  a  knight  to  be  their  wooer. 

Bonny  Saint  Johnston  stands  upon  Tay 

2  He  courted  the  eldest  wi  glove  an  ring, 

But  he  lovd  the  youngest  above  a’  thing. 

3  He  courted  the  eldest  wi  brotch  an  knife, 

But  lovd  the  youngest  as  his  life. 

4  The  eldest  she  was  vexed  sair, 

An  much  envi’d  her  sister  fair. 

5  Into  her  bowr  she  could  not  rest, 

Wi  grief  an  spite  she  almos  brast. 

6  Upon  a  morning  fair  an  clear, 

She  cried  upon  her  sister  dear  : 

7  1  0  sister,  come  to  yon  sea  stran, 

An  see  our  father’s  ships  come  to  Ian.’ 

8  She ’s  taen  her  by  the  milk-white  han, 

An  led  her  down  to  yon  sea  stran. 

9  The  younges[t]  stood  upon  a  stane, 

The  eldest  came  an  threw  her  in. 

10  She  tooke  her  by  the  middle  sma, 

An  dashd  her  bonny  back  to  the  jaw. 

11  *  O  sister,  sister,  tak  my  han, 

An  Ise  mack  you  heir  to  a’  my  lan. 

12  ‘  O  sister,  sister,  tak  my  middle, 

An  yes  get  my  goud  and  my  gouden  girdle. 


‘  O  sister,  sister,  save  my  life, 

An  I  swear  Ise  never  be  nae  man’s  wife.’ 

‘  Foul  fa  the  han  that  I  should  tacke, 

It  twin’d  me  an  my  wardles  make. 

‘  Your  cherry  cheeks  an  y allow  hair 
Gars  me  gae  maiden  for  evermair.’ 

Sometimes  she  sank,  an  sometimes  she  swam, 
Till  she  came  down  yon  bonny  mill-dam. 

O  out  it  came  the  miller’s  son, 

An  saw  the  fair  maid  swimmin  in. 

‘  0  father,  father,  draw  your  dam, 

Here ’s  either  a  mermaid  or  a  swan.’ 

The  miller  quickly  drew  the  dam, 

An  there  he  found  a  drownd  woman. 

You  coudna  see  her  y allow  hair 
For  gold  and  pearle  that  were  so  rare. 

You  coudna  see  her  middle  sma 
For  gouden  girdle  that  was  sae  braw. 

You  coudna  see  her  fingers  white, 

For  gouden  rings  that  was  sae  gryte. 

An  by  there  came  a  harper  fine, 

That  harped  to  the  king  at  dine. 

When  he  did  look  that  lady  upon, 

He  sighd  and  made  a  heavy  moan. 

He ’s  taen  three  locks  o  her  yallow  hair, 

An  wi  them  strung  his  harp  sae  fair. 

The  first  tune  he  did  play  and  sing, 

Was,  ‘  Farewell  to  my  father  the  king.’ 

The  nextin  tune  that  he  playd  syne, 

Was,  ;  Farewell  to  my  mother  the  queen.’ 

The  lasten  tune  that  he  playd  then, 

Was,  ‘  Wae  to  my  sister,  fair  Ellen.’ 


13 

14 

15 

16 

17 

18 

19 

20 

21 

22 

23 

24 

25 

26 

27 

28 


128 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


0 

Scott’s  Minstrelsy,  1802,  ii,  143.  Compounded  from  B  b 
and  a  fragment  of  fourteen  stanzas  transcribed  from  the 
recitation  of  an  old  woman  by  Miss  Charlotte  Brooke. 

1  There  were  two  sisters  sat  in  a  bour  ; 

Binnorie,  0  Binnorie 
There  came  a  knight  to  he  their  wooer. 

By  the  bonny  mill-dams  of  Binnorie 

2  He  courted  the  eldest  with  glove  and  ring, 

But  he  loed  the  youngest  aboon  a’  thing. 

3  He  courted  the  eldest  with  broach  and  knife, 
But  he  loed  the  youngest  aboon  his  life. 

4  The  eldest  she  was  vexed  sair, 

And  sore  envied  her  sister  fair. 

5  The  eldest  said  to  the  youngest  ane, 

‘  Will  ye  go  and  see  our  father’s  ships  come 
in?’ 

6  She  ’s  taen  her  by  the  lilly  hand, 

And  led  her  down  to  the  river  strand. 

7  The  youngest  stude  upon  a  stane, 

The  eldest  came  and  pushed  her  in. 

8  She  took  her  by  the  middle  sma, 

And  dashed  her  bonnie  back  to  the  jaw. 

9  ‘  0  sister,  sister,  reach  your  hand, 

And  ye  shall  be  heir  of  half  my  land.’ 

10  ‘  O  sister,  I  ’ll  not  reach  my  hand, 

And  I  ’ll  be  heir  of  all  your  land. 

11  ‘  Shame  fa  the  hand  that  I  should  take, 

It ’s  twin’d  me  and  my  world’s  make.’ 

12  ‘  0  sister,  reach  me  but  your  glove, 

And  sweet  William  shall  be  your  love.’ 

13  ‘  Sink  on,  nor  hope  for  hand  or  glove, 

And  sweet  William  shall  better  be  my  love. 


14  ‘  Your  cherry  cheeks  and  your  yellow  hair 
Garrd  me  gang  maiden  evermair.’ 

15  Sometimes  she  sunk,  and  sometimes  she  swam, 
Until  she  came  to  the  miller’s  dam. 

16  ‘  0  father,  father,  draw  your  dam, 

There ’s  either  a  mermaid  or  a  milk-white 
swan.’ 

17  The  miller  hasted  and  drew  his  dam, 

And  there  he  found  a  drowned  woman. 

18  You  could  not  see  her  yellow  hair, 

For  gowd  and  pearls  that  were  sae  rare. 

19  You  could  na  see  her  middle  sma, 

Her  gowden  girdle  was  sae  bra. 

20  A  famous  harper  passing  by, 

The  sweet  pale  face  he  chanced  to  spy. 

21  And  when  he  looked  that  ladye  on, 

He  sighed  and  made  a  heavy  moan. 

22  He  made  a  harp  of  her  breast-bone, 

Whose  sounds  would  melt  a  heart  of  stone. 

23  The  strings  he  framed  of  her  yellow  hair, 
Whose  notes  made  sad  the  listening  ear. 

24  He  brought  it  to  her  father’s  hall, 

And  there  was  the  court  assembled  all. 

25  He  laid  this  harp  upon  a  stone, 

And  straight  it  began  to  play  alone. 

26  ‘O  yonder  sits  my  father,  the  king, 

And  yonder  sits  my  mother,  the  queen. 

27  ‘  And  yonder  stands  my  brother  Hugh, 

And  by  him  my  William,  sweet  and  true.’ 

28  But  the  last  tune  that  the  harp  playd  then, 
Was  ‘  Woe  to  my  sister,  false  Helen  !  ’ 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


129 


D 

Kinloch’s  MSS,  n,  49.  From  the  recitation  of  Mrs  John¬ 
ston,  a  North-country  lady. 

1  There  lived  three  sisters  in  a  bouer, 

Edinbruch,  Edinbruch 
There  lived  three  sisters  in  a  bouer, 

Stirling  for  aye 

There  lived  three  sisters  in  a  bouer, 

The  youngest  was  the  sweetest  flowr. 

Bonnie  St  Johnston  stands  upon  Tay 

2  There  cam  a  knicht  to  see  them  a’, 

And  on  the  youngest  his  love  did  fa. 

3  He  brought  the  eldest  ring  and  glove, 

But  the  youngest  was  liis  ain  true-love. 

4  He  brought  the  second  sheath  and  knife, 

But  the  youngest  was  to  be  liis  wife. 

5  The  eldest  sister  said  to  the  youngest  ane, 

‘  Will  ye  go  and  see  our  father’s  ships  come 
in?’ 

6  And  as  they  walked  by  the  linn, 

The  eldest  dang  the  youngest  in. 

7  ‘  0  sister,  sister,  tak  my  hand, 

And  ye  ’ll  be  heir  to  a’  my  land.’ 


E 

Sharpe’s  Ballad  Book,  No  10,  p.  30. 

1  There  livd  twa  sisters  in  a  bower, 

Hey  Edinbruch,  how  Edinbruch ! 

There  lived  twa  sisters  in  a  bower, 

Stirling  for  aye ! 

The  youngest  o  them  0  she  was  a  flower  ! 
Bonny  Sanct  Johnstoune  that  stands  upon 
Tay! 

2  There  cam  a  squire  frae  the  west, 

He  loed  them  baith,  but  the  youngest  best. 

3  He  gied  the  eldest  a  gay  gold  ring, 

But  he  loed  the  youngest  aboon  a’  tiling. 

4  ‘  0  sister,  sister,  will  ye  go  to  the  sea  ? 

Our  father’s  ships  sail  bonnilie.’ 

17 


8  ‘  Foul  fa  the  hand  that  I  wad  take, 

To  twin  me  o  my  warld’s  make.’ 

9  ‘  O  sister,  sister,  tak  my  glove, 

And  yese  get  Willie,  my  true-love.’ 

10  ‘  Sister,  sister,  I  ’ll  na  tak  your  glove, 

For  I’ll  get  Willie,  your  true-love.’ 

11  Aye  she  swittert,  and  aye  she  swam, 

Till  she  cam  to  yon  bonnie  mill-dam. 

12  The  miller’s  dochter  cam  out  wi  speed, 

It  was  for  water,  to  bake  her  bread. 

13  ‘  0  father,  father,  gae  slack  your  dam  ; 

There ’s  in  ’t  a  lady  or  a  milk-white  swan.’ 

*  #  #  *  # 

14  They  could  na  see  her  coal-black  eyes 
For  her  yellow  locks  hang  oure  her  brees. 

15  They  could  na  see  her  weel-made  middle 
For  her  braid  gowden  girdle. 

*  *  *  *  * 

16  And  by  there  cam  an  auld  blind  fiddler, 

And  took  three  tets  o  her  bonnie  yellow 
hair. 

*  *  *  *  # 

17  The  first  spring  that  the  bonnie  fiddle  playd, 

‘  Hang  my  cruel  sister,  Alison,’  it  said. 


5  The  youngest  sat  down  upon  a  stane  ; 

The  eldest  shot  the  youngest  in. 

6  ‘  O  sister,  sister,  lend  me  your  hand, 

And  you  shall  hae  my  gouden  fan. 

7  ‘  0  sister,  sister,  save  my  life, 

And  ye  shall  be  the  squire’s  wife.’ 

8  First  she  sank,  and  then  she  swam, 

Untill  she  cam  to  Tweed  mill-dam. 

9  The  miliar’s  daughter  was  baking  bread, 

She  went  for  water,  as  she  had  need. 

10  ‘  O  father,  father,  in  our  mill-dam 

There ’s  either  a  lady,  or  a  milk-white  swan.’ 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


130 

11  They  could  nae  see  her  fingers  small, 
Wi  diamond  rings  they  were  coverd  all. 

12  They  could  nae  see  her  yellow  hair, 

Sae  mony  knots  and  platts  were  there. 


F 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  383.  From  the  recitation  of  Agnes 
Lyle,  Kilbarchan,  27th  July,  1825. 

1  There  was  two  ladies  livd  in  a  bower, 

Hey  with  a  gay  and  a  grinding  0 
The  youngest  o  them  was  the  fairest  flower 
About  a’  the  bonny  hows  o  London. 

2  There  was  two  ladies  livd  in  a  bower, 

An  wooer  unto  the  youngest  did  go. 

3  The  oldest  one  to  the  youngest  did  say, 

‘  Will  ye  take  a  walk  with  me  today, 

And  we  ’ll  view  the  bonny  bows  o  Lon¬ 
don. 

4  ‘  Thou  ’ll  set  thy  foot  whare  I  set  mine, 

Thou  ’ll  set  thy  foot  upon  this  stane.’ 

5  4 1  ’ll  set  my  foot  where  thou  sets  thine  :  ’ 

The  old  sister  dang  the  youngest  in, 

At,  etc. 

6  4  0  sister  dear,  come  tak  my  hand, 

Take  my  life  safe  to  dry  land,’ 

At,  etc. 

7  1  It ’s  neer  by  my  hand  thy  hand  sail  come  in, 
It ’s  neer  by  my  hand  thy  hand  sail  come  in, 

At,  etc.  , 

8  1  It ’s  thy  cherry  cheeks  and  thy  white  briest 

bane 

Gars  me  set  a  maid  owre  lang  at  hame.’ 

9  She  clasped  her  hand[s]  about  a  brume  rute, 
But  her  cruel  sister  she  lowsed  them  out. 


13  They  could  nae  see  her  lilly  feet, 

Her  gowden  fringes  war  sae  deep. 

14  Bye  there  cam  a  fiddler  fair, 

And  he ’s  taen  three  taits  o  her  yellow  hair. 


10  Sometimes  she  sank,  and  sometimes  she  swam, 
Till  she  cam  to  the  miller’s  dam. 

11  The  miller’s  bairns  has  muckle  need, 

They  were  hearing  in  water  to  hake  some 
breid. 

12  Says,  ‘Father,  dear  father,  in  our  mill-dam, 

It ’s  either  a  fair  maid  or  a  milk-white  swan.’ 

13  The  miller  he ’s  spared  nae  his  hose  nor  his 

shoon 

Till  he  brocht  this  lady  till  dry  land. 

14  I  wad  he  saw  na  a  bit  o  her  feet, 

Her  silver  slippers  were  made  so  neat. 

15  I  wad  he  saw  na  a  bit  o  her  skin, 

For  ribbons  there  was  mony  a  ane. 

16  He  laid  her  on  a  brume  buss  to  dry, 

To  see  wha  was  the  first  wad  pass  her  by. 

17  Her  ain  father’s  herd  was  the  first  man 
That  by  this  lady  gay  did  gang. 

18  He ’s  taen  three  links  of  her  yellow  hair, 

And  made  it  a  string  to  his  fiddle  there. 

19  He ’s  cut  her  lingers  long  and  small 
To  be  fiddle-pins  that  neer  might  fail. 

20  The  very  first  spring  that  the  fiddle  did  play, 

4  Hang  my  auld  sister,’  I  wad  it  did  say. 

21  4  For  she  drowned  me  in  yonder  sea, 

God  neer  let  her  rest  till  she  shall  die,’ 

At  the  bonny  bows  o  London. 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


131 


G 

Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  104.  From  Mrs  King,  Kilbarchan. 

1  There  were  three  sisters  lived  in  a  bouir, 

Hech,  hey,  my  Nannie  O 
And  the  youngest  was  the  fairest  flouir. 

And  the  swan  swims  bonnie  O 

2  ‘  O  sister,  sister,  gang  down  to  yon  sand, 

And  see  your  father’s  ships  coming  to  dry 
land.’ 

3  O  they  have  gane  down  to  yonder  sand, 

To  see  their  father’s  ships  coming  to  dry  land. 

4  1  Gae  set  your  fit  on  yonder  stane, 

Till  I  tye  up  your  silken  goun.’ 

5  She  set  her  fit  on  yonder  stane, 

And  the  auldest  drave  the  youngest  in. 

6  ‘  O  sister,  sister,  tak  me  by  the  hand, 

And  ye  ’ll  get  a’  my  father’s  land. 


H 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  147.  From  I.  Goldie,  March,  1825. 

1  There  were  three  sisters  lived  in  a  hall, 

Hey  -with  the  gay  and  the  grandeur  0 
And  there  came  a  lord  to  court  them  all. 

At  the  bonnie  bows  o  London  town 

2  He  courted  the  eldest  with  a  penknife, 

And  he  vowed  that  he  would  take  her  life. 

3  He  courted  the  yoimgest  with  a  glove, 

And  he  said  that  he ’d  be  her  true  love. 

4  ‘  O  sister,  0  sister,  will  you  go  and  take  a  walk, 
And  see  our  father’s  ships  how  they  float  ? 

5  ‘  0  lean  your  foot  upon  the  stone, 

And  wash  your  hand  in  that  sea-foam.’ 

6  She  leaned  her  foot  upon  the  stone, 

But  her  eldest  sister  has  tumbled  her  down. 

7  ‘  0  sister,  sister,  give  me  your  hand, 

And  I  ’ll  make  you  lady  of  all  my  land.’ 


7  ‘  0  sister,  sister,  tak  me  by  the  gluve, 

An  ye  ’ll  get  Willy,  my  true  luve.’ 

8  She  had  a  switch  into  her  hand, 

And  ay  she  drave  her  frae  the  land. 

9  0  whiles  she  sunk,  and  whiles  she  swam, 
Until  she  swam  to  the  miller’s  dam. 

10  The  miller’s  daughter  gade  doun  to  Tweed, 
To  carry  water  to  bake  her  bread. 

11  ‘0  father,  0  father,  what ’s  yon  in  the  dam  ? 
It ’s  either  a  maid  or  a  milk-white  swan.’ 

12  They  have  tane  her  out  till  yonder  thorn, 
And  she  has  lain  till  Monday  morn. 

13  She  hadna,  hadna  twa  days  lain, 

Till  by  there  came  a  harper  fine. 

14  He  made  a  harp  o  her  breast-bane, 

That  he  might  play  forever  thereon. 


8  ‘  0  I  ’ll- not  lend  to  you  my  hand, 

But  I  ’ll  be  lady  of  your  land.’ 

9  ‘  O  sister,  sister,  give  me  your  glove, 

And  I  ’ll  make  you  lady  of  my  true  love.’ 

10  ‘  It ’s  I  ’ll  not  lend  to  you  my  glove, 

But  I  ’ll  be  lady  of  your  true  love.’ 

11  Sometimes  she  sank,  and  sometimes  she  swam, 
Until  she  came  to  a  miller’s  dam. 

12  The  miller’s  daughter  was  coming  out  wi 

speed, 

For  water  for  to  bake  some  bread. 

13  ‘  0  father,  father,  stop  the  dam, 

For  it ’s  either  a  lady  or  a  milk-white  swan.’ 

14  He  dragged  her  out  unto  the  shore, 

And  stripped  her  of  all  she  wore. 

15  By  cam  a  fiddler,  and  he  was  fair, 

And  he  buskit  his  bow  in  her  bonnie  yellow 
hair. 


132 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


16  By  cam  her  father’s  harper,  and  he  was  fine, 
And  he  made,  a  harp  o  her  bonny  breast-bone. 

17  When  they  came  to  her  father’s  court, 

The  harp  [and  fiddle  these  words]  spoke  : 


I 

Kinloch  MSS,  v,  425.  From  the  recitation  of  M.  Kin- 
near,  23d  August,  1826. 

1  There  war  twa  sisters  lived  in  a  bouer, 

Binnorie  and  Binnorie 
There  cam  a  squire  to  court  them  haith. 

At  the  bonnie  mill-streams  o  Binnorie 

2  He  courted  the  eldest  with  jewels  and  rings, 
But  he  lovd  the  youngest  the  best  of  all 

things. 

3  He  courted  the  eldest  with  a  penknife, 

He  lovd  the  youngest  as  dear  as  his  life. 

4  It  fell  ance  upon  a  day 

That  these  twa  sisters  hae  gane  astray. 

5  It  was  for  to  meet  their  father’s  ships  that  had 

come  in. 


18  ‘  0  God  bless  my  father  the  king, 

And  I  wish  the  same  to  my  mother  the  queen. 

19  ‘  My  sister  Jane  she  tumbled  me  in, 

•  •  •  •  • 

***** 


6  As  they  walked  up  the  linn, 

The  eldest  dang  the  youngest  in. 

7  ‘  O  sister,  sister,  tak  my  hand, 

And  ye  ’ll  hae  Lud  John  and  aw  his  land.’ 

8  With  a  silver  wand  she  pushd  her  in, 

* 

•  •  •  •  • 

9  ‘  0  sister,  sister,  tak  my  glove, 

And  ye  sail  hae  my  ain  true  love.’ 

10  The  miller’s  docliter  cam  out  wi  speed. 

It  was  for  a  water  to  bake  her  bread. 

11  ‘  0  father,  father,  gae  slack  your  dam  ; 

There ’s  either  a  white  fish  or  a  swan.’ 

***** 

12  Bye  cam  a  blind  fiddler  that  way, 

And  he  took  three  tets  o  her  bonnie  yellow  hair. 

13  And  the  first  spring  that  he  playd, 

It  said,  ‘  It  was  my  sister  threw  me  in.’ 


J 

Notes  and  Queries,  4th  S.,  v,  23,  from  the  north  of  Ire¬ 
land. 

1  There  were  two  ladies  playing  hall, 

Hey,  ho,  my  Nannie  0 
A  great  lord  came  to  court  them  all. 

The  swan  she  does  swim  bonnie  0 


K 

Mr  G.  R.  Kinloch’s  papers,  Kinloch  MSS,  ii,  59.  From 
Mrs  Lindores. 

1  1  O  sister,  sister,  gie  me  your  hand, 

Binnorie  and  Binnorie 


2  He  gave  to  the  first  a  golden  ring, 

He  gave  to  the,  second  a  far  better  thing. 

Jfc  Af,  At  AL  At 

"W  "A"  'TV  "TV  'A' 

3  He  made  a  harp  of  her  breast-hone 

•  •  •  •  • 

4  He  set  it  down  upon  a  stone, 

And  it  began  to  play  its  lone. 


And  I  ’ll  give  the  half  of  my  fallow-land, 
By  the  bonnie  mill-dams  of  Binnorie.’ 
***** 

2  The  first  time  the  bonnie  fiddle  played, 

‘  Hang  my  sister,  Alison,’  it  said, 

‘  At  the  bonnie  mill-dams  of  Binnorie.’ 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


133 


L 

a.  From  oral  tradition,  Notes  and  Queries,  1st  S.,  v,  316. 
b.  The  Scouring  of  the  White  Horse,  p.  161.  From  North 
Wales. 

1  O  was  it  eke  a  pheasant  cock, 

Or  eke  a  pheasant  hen, 

Or  was  it  the  bodye  of  a  fair  ladye, 

Come  swimming  down  the  stream? 

2  0  it  was  not  a  pheasant  cock, 

Nor  eke  a  pheasant  hen, 

But  it  was  the  bodye  of  a  fair  ladye 
Came  swimming  down  the  stream. 
***** 

3  And  what  did  he  do  with  her  fair  bodye  ? 

Fal  the  lal  the  lal  laral  lody 
He  made  it  a  case  for  his  melodye. 

Fal,  etc. 

M 

Taken  down  from  recitation  at  Old  Deir,  1876,  by  Mrs 
A.  F.  Murison.  MS.,  p.  79. 

1  There  lived  twa  sisters  in  yonder  ha, 

Binorie  O  an  Binorie 
They  hadna  but  ae  lad  atween  them  twa, 

He ’s  the  bonnie  miller  lad  o  Bindrie. 

2  It  fell  oot  upon  a  day, 

The  auldest  ane  to  the  youngest  did  say, 

At  the  bonnie  mill-dams  o  Bindrie, 

3  ‘  0  sister,  O  sister,  will  ye  go  to  the  dams, 

To  hear  the  blackbird  tkrashin  oer  his  songs  ? 

At  the,’  etc. 

4  ‘O  sister,  0  sister,  will  ye  go  to  the  dams, 

To  see  oor  father’s  fish-boats  come  safe  to  dry 
Ian? 

An  the  bonnie  miller  lad  o  Binorie.’ 

5  They  hadna  been  an  oor  at  the  dams, 

Till  they  heard  the  blackbird  thrashin  oer  his 
tune, 

At  the,  etc. 

6  They  hadna  been  an  oor  at  the  dams 

Till  they  saw  their  father’s  fish-boats  come  safe 
to  dry  lan, 

Bat  they  sawna  the  bonnie  miller  laddie. 


4  And  what  did  he  do  with  her  legs  so  strong  ? 
He  made  them  a  stand  for  his  violon. 

5  And  what  did  he  do  with  her  hair  so  fine  ? 

He  made  of  it  strings  for  his  violine. 

G  And  what  did  he  do  with  her  arms  so  long  ? 
He  made  them  bows  for  his  violon. 

7  And  what  did  he  do  with  her  nose  so  thin  ? 

He  made  it  a  bridge  for  his  violin. 

8  And  what  did  he  do  with  her  eyes  so  bright  ? 
He  made  them  spectacles  to  put  to  his  sight. 

9  And  what  did  he  do  with  her  petty  toes  ? 

He  made  them  a  nosegay  to  put  to  his 
nose. 


7  They  stood  baith  up  upon  a  stane, 

An  the  eldest  ane  dang  the  youngest  in, 

I  the,  etc. 

8  She  swam  up,  an  she  swam  doon, 

An  she  swam  back,  to  her  sister  again, 

I  the,  etc. 

9  ‘  0  sister,  0  sister,  len  me  your  han, 

An  yes  be  heir  to  my  true  love, 

He ’s  the  bonnie  miller  lad  o  Binorie.’ 

10  ‘  It  was  not  for  that  love  at  I  dang  you  in, 
But  ye  was  fair  and  I  was  din, 

And  yes  droon  i  the  dams  o  Binorie.’ 

11  The  miller’s  daughter  she  cam  oot, 

For  water  to  wash  her  father’s  hans, 

Frae  the,  etc. 

12  ‘  0  father,  O  father,  ye  will  fish  your  dams, 
An  ye  ’ll  get  a  white  fish  or  a  swan, 

I  the,’  etc. 

13  They  fished  up  and  they  fished  doon, 

But  they  got  nothing  but  a  droonet  woman, 
I  the,  etc. 

14  Some  o  them  kent  by  her  skin  sae  fair, 

But  weel  kent  he  by  her  bonnie  y allow  hair 

She ’s  the  bonnie  miller’s  lass  o  Binorie. 


134 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


15  Some  o  them  kent  by  her  goons  o  silk, 

But  weel  kent  he  by  her  middle  sae  jimp, 
She ’s  the  bonnie  miller’s  lass  o  Binorie. 


N 

[Pinkerton’s]  Scottish  Tragic  Ballads,  p.  72. 

1  There  were  twa  sisters  livd  in  a  bouir, 

Binnorie,  0  Binnorie 
Their  father  was  a  baron  of  pouir. 

By  the  bonnie  mildams  of  Binnorie 

2  The  youngest  was  meek,  and  fair  as  the  may 
Whan  she  springs  in  the  east  wi  the  gowden  day. 

3  The  eldest  austerne  as  the  winter  cauld, 

Ferce  was  her  saul,  and  her  seiming  was  bauld. 

4  A  gallant  squire  cam  sweet  Isabel  to  wooe  ; 

Her  sister  had  naething  to  luve  I  trow. 

5  But  filld  was  she  wi  dolour  and  ire, 

To  see  that  to  her  the  comlie  squire 

6  Preferd  the  debonair  Isabel : 

Their  hevin  of  luve  of  spyte  was  her  hell. 

7  Till  ae  ein  she  to  her  sister  can  say, 

‘  Sweit  sister,  cum  let  us  wauk  and  play.’ 

8  They  wauked  up,  and  they  wauked  down, 

Sweit  sang  the  birdis  in  the  vallie  loun. 

9  Whan  they  cam  to  the  roaring  lin, 

She  drave  unweiting  Isabel  in. 


o 

a.  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii,  128. 
b.  Traditional  Ballad  Airs,  edited  by  W.  Christie,  i,  42. 

1  There  were  twa  sisters  in  a  bower, 

Hey  wi  the  gay  and  the  grinding 
And  ae  king’s  son  has  courted  them  baith. 

At  the  bonny  bonny  bows  o  London 

2  He  courted  the  youngest  wi  broach  and  ring, 
He  courted  the  eldest  wi  some  other  thing. 

3  It  fell  ance  upon  a  day 

The  eldest  to  the  youngest  did  say, 


16  Mony  ane  was  at  her  oot-takin, 

But  mony  ane  mair  at  her  green  grave  makin, 
At  the  bonny  mill-dams  o  Binorie. 


10  4  0  sister,  sister,  tak  my  hand, 

And  ye  sail  hae  my  silver  fan. 

11  ‘  0  sister,  sister,  tak  my  middle, 

And  ye  sail  hae  my  gowden  girdle.’ 

12  Sumtimes  she  sank,  sumtimes  she  swam, 

Till  she  cam  to  the  miller’s  dam. 

13  The  miller’s  dochtor  was  out  that  ein, 

And  saw  her  rowing  down  the  streim. 

14  ‘  O  father  deir,  in  your  mil-dam 

There  is  either  a  lady  or  a  milk-white  swan !  ’ 

15  Twa  days  were  gane,  whan  to  her  deir 
Her  wraith  at  deid  of  nicht  cold  appeir. 

1 6  ‘  My  luve,  my  deir,  how  can  ye  sleip, 

Whan  your  Isabel  lyes  in  the  deip ! 

17  1  My  deir,  how  can  ye  sleip  hot  pain 
Whan  she  by  her  cruel  sister  is  slain  !  ’ 

18  Up  raise  he  sune,  in  frichtfu  mude  : 

*  Busk  ye,  my  meiny,  and  seik  the  flude.’ 

19  They  socht  her  up  and  they  socht  her  doun, 

And  spyd  at  last  her  glisterin  gown. 

20  They  raisd  her  wi  richt  meikle  care  ; 

Pale  was  her  cheik  and  grein  was  her  hair. 


4  1  Will  ye  gae  to  yon  Tweed  mill-dam, 

And  see  our  father’s  ships  come  to  land  ?  ’ 

5  They  baith  stood  up  upon  a  stane, 

The  eldest  dang  the  youngest  in. 

6  She  swimmed  up,  sae  did  she  down, 

Till  she  came  to  the  Tweed  mill-dam. 

7  The  miller’s  servant  he  came  out, 

And  saw  the  lady  floating  about. 

8  ‘  0  master,  master,  set  your  mill, 

There  is  a  fish,  or  a  milk-white  swan.’ 


10.  THE  TWA-SJSTERS 


135 


9  They  could  not  ken  her  yellow  hair, 

[For]  the  scales  o  gowd  that  were  laid  there. 

10  They  could  not  ken  her  fingers  sae  white, 
The  rings  o  gowd  they  were  sae  bright. 

11  They  could  not  ken  her  middle  sae  jimp, 

The  stays  o  gowd  were  so  well  laced. 

12  They  could  not  ken  her  foot  sae  fair, 

The  shoes  o  gowd  they  were  so  rare. 

13  Her  father’s  fiddler  he  came  by, 

Upstarted  her  ghaist  before  his  eye. 


P 

a.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  245.  b.  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy, 
Appendix,  p.  xx,  xx. 

1  There  were  twa  ladies  in  a  bower, 

Hey  my  bonnie  Nannie  O 
The  old  was  black  and  the  young  ane  fair. 

And  the  swan  swims  bonnie  O 

2  Once  it  happened  on  a  day 

The  auld  ane  to  the  young  did  say, 

3  The  auld  ane  to  the  young  did  say, 

‘  Will  you  gae  to  the  green  and  play  ?  ’ 

4  ‘  0  sister,  sister,  I  daurna  gang, 

For  fear  I  file  my  silver  shoon.’ 

5  It  was  not  to  the  green  they  gaed, 

But  it  was  to  the  water  of  Tweed. 

6  She  bowed  her  back  and  she ’s  taen  her  on, 
And  she ’s  tumbled  her  in  Tweed  mill-dam. 

7  ‘  0  sister,  O  sister,  0  tak  my  hand, 

And  I  ’ll  mak  you  heir  of  a’  my  land.’ 

8  ‘  O  sister,  0  sister,  I  ’ll  no  take  your  hand, 

And  I  ’ll  be  heir  of  a’  your  land.’ 


14  ‘Ye  ’ll  take  a  lock  o  my  yellow  hair, 

Ye  ’ll  make  a  string  to  your  fiddle  there. 

15  ‘  Ye  ’ll  take  a  litli  o  my  little  finger  bane, 

And  ye  ’ll  make  a  pin  to  your  fiddle  then.’ 

16  He ’s  taen  a  lock  o  her  yellow  hair, 

And  made  a  string  to  his  fiddle  there. 

17  He ’s  taen  a  litli  o  her  little  finger  bane, 

And  he ’s  made  a  pin  to  his  fiddle  then. 

18  The  firstand  spring  the  fiddle  did  play, 

Said,  ‘  Ye  ’ll  drown  my  sister,  as  she ’s  dune 
me.’ 


9  ‘  O  sister,  O  sister,  0  tak  my  thumb, 

And  I  ’ll  give  you  my  true-love  John.’ 

10  ‘  O  sister,  0  sister,  I  ’ll  no  tak  your  thumb, 
And  I  will  get  your  true-love  John.’ 

11  Aye  she  swattered  and  aye  she  swam, 

Until  she  came  to  the  mouth  of  the  dam. 

12  The  miller’s  daughter  went  out  to  Tweed,  » 
To  get  some  water  to  bake  her  bread. 

13  In  again  she  quickly  ran  : 

‘  Here ’s  a  lady  or  a  swan  in  our  mill-dam.’ 

14  Out  went  the  miller  and  his  man 
And  took  the  lady  out  of  the  dam. 

15  They  laid  her  on  the  brae  to  dry  ; 

Her  father’s  fiddler  then  rode  by. 

16  When  he  this  lady  did  come  near, 

Her  ghost  to  him  then  did  appear. 

17  ‘  When  you  go  to  my  father  the  king, 

You  ’ll  tell  him  to  burn  my  sister  Jean. 

18  ‘  When  you  go  to  my  father’s  gate, 

You  ’ll  play  a  spring  for  fair  Ellen’s  sake. 

19  ‘  You  ’ll  tak  three  links  of  my  yellow  hair, 
And  play  a  spring  for  evermair.’ 


136 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


Q 

Copied  Oct.  26,  1861,  by  J.  F.  Campbell,  Esq.,  from  a  col¬ 
lection  made  by  Lady  Caroline  Murray  ;  traced  by  her  to  an 
old  nurse,  and  beyond  the  beginning  of  this  century. 

1  There  dwelt  twa  sisters  in  a  bower, 

Oh  and  olione,  and  ohone  and  aree ! 

And  the  youngest  she  was  the  fairest  flower. 
On  the  banks  of  the  Banna,  ohone  and 
aree  ! 

2  There  cam  a  knight  to  court  the  twa, 

But  on  the  youngest  his  love  did  fa. 

3  He  courted  the  eldest  with  ring  and  wi  glove, 
But  he  gave  the  youngest  all  his  love. 

4  He  courted  the  eldest  with  brooch  and  wi 

knife, 

But  he  loved  the  youngest  as  his  life. 

5  ‘  0  sister,  0  sister,  will  ye  come  to  the  stream, 
To  see  our  father’s  ships  come  in  ?  ’ 

6  The  youngest  stood  upon  a  stane, 

Her  sister  came  and  pusht  her  in. 

7  ‘  0  sister,  O  sister,  come  reach  me  your  hand, 
And  ye  shall  hae  all  our  father’s  land. 

8  ‘  0  sister,  0  sister,  come  reach  me  your  glove, 
And  you  shall  hae  William  to  be  your  true 

love.’ 


R 

a.  Notes  and  Queries,  1st  S.,  vi,  102,  from  Lancashire, 
b.  Written  down  for  J.  F.  Campbell,  Esq.,  Nov.  7,  1861,  at 
Wishaw  House,  Lancashire,  by  Lady  Louisa  Primrose,  c. 
‘  The  Scouring  of  the  White  Horse,’  p.  158,  from  Berk¬ 
shire,  as  heard  by  Mr  Hughes  from  his  father. 

1  There  was  a  king  of  the  north  countree, 

Bow  down,  bow  down,  bow  down 
There  was  a  king  of  the  north  countree, 

And  he  had  daughters  one,  two,  three. 

I  ’ll  be  true  to  my  love,  and  my  love  ’ll  be 
true  to  me 

2  To  the  eldest  he  gave  a  beaver  hat, 

And  the  youngest  she  thought  much  of  that. 


9  ‘  I  did  not  put  you  in  with  the  design 
Just  for  to  pull  you  out  again.’ 

10  Some  time  she  sank,  some  time  she  swam, 
Until  she  came  to  a  miller’s  dam. 

11  The  miller’s  daughter  dwelt  on  the  Tweed, 

She  went  for  water  to  bake  her  bread. 

12  ‘  O  faither,  faither,  come  drag  me  your  dam, 
For  there  ’s  aither  a  lady  in  ’t,  or  a  milk-white 

swan.’ 

13  The  miller  went,  and  he  dragd  his  dam, 

And  he  brought  her  fair  body  to  lan. 

14  They  couldna  see  her  waist  sae  sma 
For  the  goud  and  silk  about  it  a’. 

15  They  couldna  see  her  yaflow  hair 

For  the  pearls  and  jewels  that  were  there. 

16  Then  up  and  spak  her  ghaist  sae  green, 

‘  Do  ye  no  ken  the  king’s  docliter  Jean  ? 

17  ‘  Tak  my  respects  to  my  father  the  king, 

And  likewise  to  my  mother  the  queen. 

18  ‘  Tak  my  respects  to  my  true  love  William, 
Tell  him  I  deid  for  the  love  of  him. 

19  ‘  Carry  him  a  lock  of  my  yallow  hair, 

To  bind  his  heart  for  evermair.’ 


3  To  the  youngest  he  gave  a  gay  gold  chain, 

And  the  eldest  she  thought  much  of  the  same. 

4  These  sisters  were  walking  on  the  bryn, 

And  the  elder  pushed  the  younger  in. 

5  ‘  Oh  sister,  oh  sister,  oh  lend  me  your  hand, 
And  I  will  give  you  both  houses  and  land.’ 

6  ‘  I  ’ll  neither  give  you  my  hand  nor  glove, 
Unless  you  give  me  your  true  love.’ 

7  Away  she  sank,  away  she  swam, 

Until  she  came  to  a  miller’s  dam. 

8  The  miller  and  daughter  stood  at  the  door, 

And  watched  her  floating  down  the  shore. 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


137 


9  ‘  Oh  father,  oh  father,  I  see  a  white  swan, 

Or  else  it  is  a  fair  woman.’ 

10  The  miller  he  took  up  his  long  crook, 

And  the  maiden  up  from  the  stream  he  took. 

11  *  I  ’ll  give  to  thee  this  gay  gold  chain, 

If  you  ’ll  take  me  back  to  my  father  again.’ 


12  The  miller  he  took  the  gay  gold  chain, 

And  he  pushed  her  into  the  water  again. 

13  The  miller  was  hanged  on  his  high  gate 
For  drowning  our  poor  sister  Kate. 

14  The  cat ’s  behind  the  buttery  shelf, 

If  you  want  any  more,  you  may  sing  it  your¬ 
self. 


s 

Kinloch  MSS,  vi,  89,  in  Kinloch’s  hand. 

*  *  *  *  * 
1  ‘  O  father,  father,  swims  a  swan,’ 
This  story  I  ’ll  vent  to  thee 
‘  0  father,  father,  swims  a  swan, 

Unless  it  be  some  dead  woman.’ 

I  ’ll  prove  true  to  my  true  love, 

If  my  love  prove  true  to  me 


2  The  miller  he  held  out  his  long  fish  hook, 
And  hooked  this  fair  maid  from  the  brook. 

3  She  offered  the  miller  a  gold  ring  stane 
To  throw  her  into  the  river  again. 

4  Down  she  sunk,  and  away  she  swam, 

Until  she  came  to  her  father’s  brook. 

5  The  miller  was  hung  at  his  mill-gate, 

For  drowning  of  my  sister  Kate. 


T 

Allingham’s  Ballad  Book,  p.  xxxiii.  From  Ireland. 

‘  Sister,  dear  sister,  where  shall  we  go  play  ?  ’ 


Cold  blowrs  the  wind,  and  the  wind  blows 
low 

4  We  shall  go  to  the  salt  sea’s  brim.’ 

And  the  wind  blows  cheerily  around  us,  high 
ho 


u 

Communicated  by  Mr  W.  W.  Newell,  as  repeated  by  an 
ignorant  woman  in  her  dotage,  who  learned  it  at  Hunting- 
ton,  Long  Island,  N.  Y. 

1  There  was  a  man  lived  in  the  mist, 

Bow  down,  bow  down 
He  loved  his  youngest  daughter  best. 

The  bow  is  bent  to  me, 

So  you  be  true  to  your  own  true  love, 

And  I  ’ll  be  true  to  thee. 


A.  b.  I1.  went  a-playing. 

Burden 2.  a  downe-o. 
c.  I1.  went  a-playing. 

Burden  2.  With  a  hey  down,  down,  a  down, 
down-a. 


2  These  two  sisters  went  out  to  swim  ; 
The  oldest  pushed  the  youngest  in. 

3  First  she  sank  and  then  she  swam, 
First  she  sank  and  then  she  swam. 

4  The  miller,  with  his  rake  and  hook, 
He  caught  her  by  the  petticoat. 

#  #  #  * 


42.  Till  oat-meal  and  salt  grow  both  on  a 
tree. 

61.  ran  hastily  down  the  clift. 

62.  And  up  he  took  her  without  any  life. 

132.  Moll  Symns. 


18 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


141,  151.  Then  he  hespake. 

172.  And  let- him  go  i  the  devil’s  name, 
d.  I1.  went  a-playing.  I2.  ships  sailing  in. 

21.  into. 

32.  me  up  on. 

62.  withouten  life. 

a.  26,  27,  28.  An  it  has  been  written  in  as  a 
conjectural  emendation  by  Jamieson ,  he  did  it 


son  in  his  printed  copy :  see  below ,  d  26,  27,  28. 

b.  The  first  stanza  only ,  agreeing  with  a  1 ,  is 
given  by  Anderson ,  Nichols's  Illustrations , 
vii,  178. 

c.  Evidently  a  copy  of  Airs  Brown's  version , 
and  in  Scott's  AIS.  it  has  the  air,  as  all  the 
Tytler-Brown  ballads  had.  Still  it  has  but 
twenty-three  stanzas,  whereas  Dr  Anderson 
gives  fifty-eight  lines  as  the  extent  of  the  Tyt¬ 
ler-Brown  copy  of  ‘■The  Cruel  Sister  ’  (Nichols, 
Ulus.  Lit.  Hist.,  vn,  178).  This,  counting 
the  first  stanza,  with  the  burden,  as  four  lines, 
according  to  the  arrangement  in  Scott's  MS., 
would  tally  exactly  with  the  Jamieson-Brown 
AIS.,  B  a. 

It  would  seem  that  B  c  had  been  altered  by 
somebody  in  order  to  remove  the  absurd  com¬ 
bination  of  sea  and  mill-dam  ;  the  invitation 
to  go  see  the  ships  come  to  land,  B  a  7,  is 
omitted,  and  “  the  deep  mill-dam  ”  substituted, 
in  8,  for  “  yon  searstran.”  Stanza  17  of  c, 
“  They  raisd  her,”  etc.,  cited  below,  occurs  in 
Pinkerton,  N  20,  and  is  more  likely  to  be  his 
than  anybody's. 

21.  brooch  and  l'ing.  22.  abune  a’  thing. 

31.  wooed  .  .  .  with  glove  and  knife. 

32.  looed  the  second. 

52.  she  well  nigh  brist. 

7.  wanting. 

82.  led  her  to  the  deep  mill-dam. 

92.  Her  cruel  sister  pushd  her  in. 

II2.  And  Ise  mak  ye. 

12.  wanting. 

141.  Shame  fa  the  hand  that  I  shall  tak. 

151.  gowden  hair.  152.  gar  .  .  .  maiden 
ever  mair. 

16.  wanting. 

171.  .Then  out  and  cam.  172.  swimming 
down. 

181.  O  father,  haste  and  draw. 

191.  his  dam.  192.  And  then.  (?) 

Instead  of  20-22 : 


They  raisd  her  wi  meikle  dule  and  care, 

Pale  was  her  cheek  and  green  was  her  hair. 

241.  that  corpse  upon. 

252.  lie ’s  strung. 

261,  271,  281,  for  tune,  line,  if  the  copy  be 
right. 

Tlx.  The  next.  281.  The  last.  282.  fause 
Ellen. 

“  Note  by  Ritson.  ‘  The  fragment  of  a  very 
different  copy  of  this  ballad  has  been  com¬ 
municated  to  J.  R.  by  a  friend  at  Dub¬ 
lin.’  ”  \_J.  C.  Walker,  no  doubt.'] 

d.  Jamieson,  Popular  Ballads  and  Songs,  I, 
48,  says  that  he  gives  his  lext  verbatim  as  it 
was  taken  from  the  recitation  of  the  lady  in 
Fifeshire  ( Mrs  Brown),  to  whom  both  he  and 
Scott  were  so  much  indebted.  That  this  is 
not  to  be  understood  with  absolute  strictness 
will  appear  from  the  variations  which  are  sub¬ 
joined.  Jamieson  adds  that  he  had  received 
another  copy  from  Mrs  Arrott  of  Aberbrothick, 
“  but  as  it  furnished  no  readings  by  which  the 
text  could  have  been  materially  improved,”  it 
was  not  used.  Both  Jamieson  and  Scott  sub¬ 
stitute  the  “  Binnorie  ”  burden,  “  the  most  com¬ 
mon  and  popular,”  says  Scott,  for  the  one  given 
by  Mrs  Brown,  with  which  Mrs  Arrott' s 
agreed.  It  may  be  added  that  Jamieson's  in¬ 
terpolations  are  stanzas  20,  21,  27,  etc.,  and 
not,  as  he  says  (i,  49),  19,  20,  27,  etc.  These 
interpolations  also  occur  as  such  in  the  manu¬ 
script. 

I1.  sisters  livd. 

22.  aboon. 

32.  lie  loved. 

42.  and  sair  envied. 

51.  Intill  her  bower  she  coudna. 

52.  maistly  brast. 

II2.  mak  ye. 

142.  me  o. 

161.  omits  an. 

162.  came  to  the  mouth  o  yon  mill-dam. 

182.  There ’s. 

202.  that  was. 

222.  that  were. 

261.  it  did. 

27  h  it  playd  seen. 

281.  thirden  tune  that  it. 

A  copy  in  Motherwell' s  MS.,  p.  239,  is  de¬ 
rived  from  Jamieson's  printed  edition.  It 
omits  the  interpolated  stanzas,  and  makes  a 
few  very  slight  changes. 


10.  THE  TWA  SISTERS 


139 


C.  Scott's  account  of  his  edition  is  as  follows  (n, 
143,  later  ed.,  ill,  287)  : 

“  It  is  compiled  from  a  copy  in  Mrs  Brown’s 
MS.,  intermixed  with  a  beautiful  fragment, 
of  fourteen  verses,  transmitted  to  the  editor 
by  J.  C.  Walker,  Esq.,  the  ingenious  his¬ 
torian  of  the  Irish  hards.  Mr  Walker,  at 
the  same  time,  favored  the  editor  with  the 
following  note  :  ‘  I  am  indebted  to  my  de¬ 
parted  friend,  Miss  Brooke,  for  the  foregoing 
pathetic  fragment.  Her  account  of  it  was  as 
follows  :  This  song  was  transcribed,  several 
years  ago,  from  the  memoxy  of  an  old  woman, 
who  had  no  recollection  of  the  concluding 
verses  ;  probably  the  beginning  may  also  he 
lost,  as  it  seems  to  commence  abruptly.’  The 
.  first  verse  and  burden  of  the  fragment  run 
thus  : 

“  ‘  O  sister,  sister,  reach  thy  hand ! 

Hey  ho,  my  Nanny,  O 

And  you  shall  be  heir  of  all  my  land. 

While  the  swan  swims  bonny,  O  ’  ” 

Out  of  this  stanza ,  or  the  corresponding 
one  in  Mrs  Brown's  copy,  Scott  seems  to 
have  made  his  9,  10. 

E.  “  My  mother  used  to  sing  this  song.”  Sharpe’s 
Ballad  Book,  ed.  of  1880,  note,  p.  129. 

F.  22.  An  wooer. 

G.  21.  strand,  with  sand  written  above :  sand  in  31. 

I.  I2.  var.  in  MS.  There  was  a  knicht  and  he 

loved  them  bath. 

7.  The  following  stanza  was  subsequently  writ¬ 
ten  on  an  opposite  blank  page,  — perhaps  de¬ 
rived  from  D  8  : 

Foul  fa  the  hand  that  I  wad  take, 

To  twin  me  and  my  warld’s  make. 

102.  a  was,  perhaps,  meant  to  be  expunged, 
but  is  only  a  little  blotted. 

II2.  var.  a  lady  or  a  milk-white  swan. 

12,  13  were  written  in  later  than  the  rest ;  at 
the  same  time,  apparently,  as  the  stanza 
above  (7). 

K.  Found  among  Mr  K inloch's  papers  by  Mr 
Macmath,  and  inserted  by  him  as  a  note  on 
p.  59,  vol.  li,  of  Kinloch's  MSS.  The  order 
of  the  stanzas  is  there,  wrongly,  inverted. 

I2.  var.  I  wad  give  you. 

L.  a.  These  fragments  were  communicated  to 
Notes  and  Queries,  April  3,  1852,  by  “  G.  A. 


C.,”  who  had  heard  ‘The  Miller’s  Melody’ 
sung  by  an  old  lady  in  his  childhood ,  and  who 
represents  himself  as  probably  the  last  sur¬ 
vivor  of  those  who  had  enjoyed  the  privilege 
of  listening  to  her  ballads.  W e  may,  there¬ 
fore,  assign  this  version  to  the  latter  part  of 
the  18 th  century.  The  two  four-line  stanzas 
were  sung  to  “  a  slow,  quaint  strain.”  Two 
others  which  followed  ivere  not  remembered, 
“  but  their  purport  was  that  the  body  ‘  stopped 
hard  by  a  miller’s  mill,’  and  that  this  ‘  mil¬ 
ler  chanced  to  come  by,’  and  took  it  out  of 
the  water  ‘to  make  a  melodye.’  ”  G.  A.  C. 
goes  on  to  say :  “  My  venerable  friend’s  tune 
here  became  a  more  lively  one,  and  the  time 
quicker ;  hut  I  can  only  recollect  a  few  of  the 
couplets,  and  these  not  correctly  nor  in  order 
of  sequence,  in  which  the  transformation  of 
the  lady  into  a  viol  is  described.” 
b.  Some  stanzas  of  this  four-line  version,  with 
a  ludicrous  modern  supplement,  are  given  in 
‘  The  Scouring  of  the  White  Horse,’  p.  161,  as 
from  the  Welsh  marshes.  Five  out  of  the  first 
six  verses  are  there  said  to  be  very  old  indeed, 
“  the  rest  all  patchwork  by  different  hands.” 
Mr  Hughes  has  kindly  informed  me  that  he 
derived  the  ballad  from  his  father,  who  had 
originally  learned  it  at  Ruthyn  when  a  boy. 
What  is  material  here  follows  : 

1  0  it  was  not  a  pheasant  cock, 

Nor  yet  a  pheasant  hen, 

But  O  it  was  a  lady  fair 

Came  swimming  down  the  stream. 

2  An  ancient  harper  passing  by 

Found  this  poor  lady’s  body, 

To  which  his  pains  he  did  apply 
To  make  a  sweet  melody. 

3  To  cat-gut  dried  he  her  inside, 

He  drew  out  her  back-hone, 

And  made  thereof  a  fiddle  sweet 
All  for  to  play  upon. 

4  And  all  her  hair,  so  long  and  fair, 

That  down  her  back  did  flow, 

O  he  did  lay  it  up  with  care, 

To  string  his  fiddle  bow. 

5  And  what  did  he  with  her  fingers, 

Which  were  so  straight  and  small  ? 


140 


10. 


THE  TWA  SISTERS 


0  he  did  cut  them  into  pegs, 

To  screw  up  his  fiddoll. 

6  Then  forth  went  he,  as  it  might  be, 

Upon  a  summer’s  day, 

And  met  a  goodly  company, 

Who  asked  him  in  to  play. 

7  Then  from  her  bones  he  drew  such  tones 

As  made  their  bones  to  ache, 

They  sounded  so  like  human  groans 
Their  hearts  began  to  quake. 

8  They  ordered  him  in  ale  to  swim,  — 

For  sorrow  ’s  mighty  dry,  — 

And  he  to  share  their  wassail  fare 
Essayd  right  willingly. 

9  He  laid  his  fiddle  on  a  shelf 

In  that  old  manor-hall, 

It  played  and  sung  all  by  itself, 

And  thus  sung  this  fiddoll : 

10  ‘  There  sits  the  squire,  my  worthy  sire, 

A-drinking  hisself  drunk,’  etc.,  etc. 

N.  Pinkerton  tells  us,  in  the  Preface  to  his  An¬ 
cient  Scottish  Poems,  p.  cxxxi,  that  “  Binnorie 
is  one  half  from  tradition,  one  half  by  the  ed¬ 
itor.”  One  fourth  and  three  fourths  would 
have  been  a  more  exact  apportionment.  The 
remainder  of  his  text,  which  is  wholly  of  his 
invention,  is  as  follows  : 

‘  Gae  saddle  to  me  my  swiftest  steid  ; 

Her  fere,  by  my  fae,  for  her  dethe  sail  bleid.’ 

A  page  cam  rinning  out  owr  the  lie  : 

‘  0  heavie  tydings  I  bring,’  quoth  he. 

‘  My  luvely  lady  is  far  awa  gane ; 

We  weit  the  fairy  hae  her  tane. 

Her  sister  gaed  wood  wi  dule  and  rage ; 

Nocht  cold  we  do  her  mind  to  suage. 

“  O  Isabel,  my  sister,”  she  wold  cry, 

“  For  thee  will  I  weip,  for  thee  will  I  die.” 

Till  late  yestrene,  in  an  elric  hour, 

She  lap  frae  aft  the  hichest  touir.’ 

‘  Now  sleip  she  in  peace,’  quoth  the  gallant  squire  ; 

‘  Her  dethe  was  the  maist  that  I  cold  require. 

But  I  ’ll  main  for  the,  my  Isabel  deir. 

Full  mony  a  dreiry  day,  bot  weir.’ 

20.  This  stanza  occurs  also  in  B  c  (17),  and 
was  perhaps  borrowed  from  Pinkerton  by 
the  reviser  of  that  copy. 

O.  a.  Buchan's  note,  n,  320 :  “  I  have  seen  four 
or  five  different  versions  of  this  ballad,  but 
none  in  this  dress,  nor  with  the  same  chorus.  .  .  • 
The  old  woman  from  whose  recitation  I  took  it 


down  says  she  had  heard  another  way  of  it,  quite 
local,  whose  burden  runs  thus  : 

‘  Ever  into  Buchanshire,  vari  vari  O.’  ” 
l2.  hae  courted. 

b.  Mr  Christie  has  “  epitomized  ”  Buchan's 
copy  ( omitting  stanzas  9-12),  with  these  few 
slight  alterations  from  the  singing  of  a  Banff¬ 
shire  woman,  who  died  in  1860,  at  the  age  of 
nearly  eighty : 

Burden :  It ’s  hey,  etc. 

22.  And  he  courted  the  eldest  wi  mony  other 
thing. 

31.  But  it  fell. 

52.  And  the  eldest. 

P.  b.  This  stanza  only : 

There  livd  twa  sisters  in  a  bower, 

Hey  my  bonnie  Annie  O 
There  cam  a  lover  them  to  woo. 

And  the  swan  swims  bonnie  O, 

And  the  swan  swims  bonnie  O 

Q.  The  burden  is  given  thus  in  Pop.  Tales  of  the 
West  Highlands,  iv,  125  : 

Oh  ochone,  ochone  a  rie, 

On  the  banks  of  the  Banna,  ochone  a  rie. 

R.  a.  The  title  ‘  The  Three  Sisters,’  and  perhaps 
the  first  stanza,  belongs  rather  to  No  1  A,  B, 

p.  3  f. 

b.  1.  A  farmer  there  lived  in  the  north  coun¬ 
tree, 

Bo  down 

And  he  had  daughters  one,  two,  three. 
And  I  ill  be  true  unto  my  love,  if  he  ’ll 
be  true  unto  me 

{The  burden  is  given  as  Bo  down,  bo  down, 
etc.,  in  Popular  Tales  of  the  West  High¬ 
lands,  iv,  125.) 

Between  1  and  2  b  has  : 

The  eldest  she  had  a  lover  come, 

And  he  fell  in  love  with  the  younger  one. 

He  bought  the  younger  a  .  .  . 

The  elder  she  thought  .  .  . 

3.  wanting. 

41.  The  sisters  they  walkt  by  the  river  brim. 

62.  my  true  love. 


11.  THE  CRUEL  BROTHER 


141 


8.  The  miller’s  daughter  was  at  the  door, 

As  sweet  as  any  gillyflower. 

9.  O  father,  O  father,  there  swims  a  swain, 
And  he  looks  like  a  gentleman. 

10.  The  miller  he  fetcht  his  line  and  hook, 

And  he  fisht  the  fair  maiden  out  of  the 
brook. 

II1.  0  miller,  I’ll  give  you  guineas  ten, 

12.  The  miller  he  took  her  guineas  ten, 

And  then  he  popt  her  in  again. 

131.  .  .  .  behind  his  back  gate, 

2.  the  farmer’s  daughter  Kate. 

Instead  of  14 : 

The  sister  she  sailed  over  the  sea, 

And  died  an  old  maid  of  a  hundred  and  three. 

The  lover  became  a  beggar  man, 

And  he  drank  out  of  a  rusty  tin  can. 

b  8,  11,  12,  14,  15  are  cited  in  Popular  Tales 
of  the  West  Highlands,  iv,  127. 

c.  1.  A  varmer  he  lived  in  the  west  countree, 
Hey-down,  bow-clown 
A  varmer  he  lived  in  the  west  countree, 

And  he  had  daughters  one,  two,  and  dree. 
And  I  ’ll  be  true  to  my  love, 

If  my  love  ’ll  be  true  to  me. 


2,  3.  wanting. 

41.  As  tliay  wur  walking  by  the  river’s  brim. 

51.  pray  gee  me  thy  hand. 

71.  So  down  she  sank  and  away  she  swam. 

8.  The  miller’s  daughter  stood  by  the  door, 

As  fair  as  any  gilly-flower. 

9.  here  swims  a  swan, 

Very  much  like  a  clrownded  gentlewoman. 

10.  The  miller  he  fot  his  pole  and  hook, 

And  he  fished  the  fair  maid  out  of  the 
brook. 

II1.  0  miller,  I  ’ll  gee  thee  guineas  ten. 

122.  pushed  the  fair  maid  in  again. 

Between  12  and  13  c  has , 

But  the  crowner  he  cum  and  the  justice 
too, 

With  a  hue  and  a  cry  ancl  a  hullaballoo. 

They  hanged  the  miller  beside  his  own 
gate 

For  drowning  the  varmer’s  daughter,  Kate. 
Instead  of  14 : 

The  sister  she  fled  beyond  the  seas, 

And  died  an  old  maid  among  black  savagees. 

So  I ’ve  ended  my  tale  of  the  west  coun¬ 
tree, 

And  they  calls  it  the  Barkshire  Tragedee. 

S.  la.  MS.  Or  less  (?). 

T.  “  Sung  to  a  peculiar  and  beautiful  air.”  Al- 

lingham,  p.  xxxiii. 


11 

THE  CRUEL  BROTHER 


A.  *  [The]  Cruel  Brother,  or  the  Bride’s  Testament.’ 
a.  Alex.  Fraser  Ty tier’s  Brown  MS.  b.  Jamieson’s 
Popular  Ballads,  i,  66. 

B.  The  Kinloch  MSS,  I,  21. 

C.  ‘Ther  waur  three  ladies,’  Harris  MS.,  p.  11  b. 

D.  a.  Notes  and  Queries,  1st  S.,  vx,  53.  b.  2d  S.,  v} 
171. 

E.  Notes  and  Queries,  4th  S.,  v,  105. 


F.  ‘  The  Three  Knights,’  Gilbert’s  Ancient  Christmas 
Carols,  2d  ed.,  p.  68. 

G.  ‘  Fine  Flowers  of  the  Valley.’  a.  Herd’s  MSS,  I, 
41.  b.  Herd’s  Scottish  Songs,  1776,  x,  88. 

H.  Fragment  appended  to  G. 

I.  The  Kinloch  MSS,  i,  27. 

J.  As  current  in  County  Meath,  Ireland,  about  1860. 

K.  Notes  and  Queries,  4th  S.,  iv,  517. 


142 


11.  THE  CRUEL  BROTHER 


A  a  was  obtained  directly  from  Mrs  Brown 
of  Falkland,  in  1800,  by  Alexander  Fraser 
Tytler.  Jamieson  says. that  he  gives  b  ver¬ 
batim  from  the  recitation  of  Mrs  Arrott ;  but 
it  would  seem  that  this  must  have  been  a  slip 
of  memory,  for  the  two  agree  except  in  half  a 
dozen  words.  B,  C,  I,  J  are  now  for  the  first 
time  printed.  G  only  was  taken  down  earlier 
than  the  present  century. 

Aytoun  remarks  (1858)  :  “  This  is,  per¬ 
haps,  the  most  popular  of  all  the  Scottish  bal¬ 
lads,  being  commonly  recited  and  sung  even  at 
the  present  day.”  The  copy  which  he  gives, 
I,  232,  was  “  taken  down  fiom  recitation,” 
but  is  nevertheless  a  compound  of  G  and  A  b, 
with  a  few  unimportant  variations,  proceed¬ 
ing,  no  doubt,  from  imperfect  recollection.* 
The  copy  in  Dixon’s  Ancient  Poems,  Ballads, 
and  Songs,  p.  56,  repeated  in  Bell’s  volume 
of  the  same  title,  p.  50,  is  Gilbert’s  F.  Dixon 
informs  us  that  the  ballad  was  (in  1846)  still 
popular  amongst  the  peasantry  in  the  west  of 
England.  Cunningham  gives  us  a  piece  called 
‘  The  Three  Ladies  of  Leithan  Ha,’  Songs  of 
Scotland,  II,  87,  which  he  would  fain  have  us 
believe  that  he  did  not  know  he  had  written 
himself.  “  The  common  copies  of  this  tragic 
lyric,”  he  truly  says,  “  differ  very  much  from 
this ;  not  so  much  in  the  story  itself  as  in  the 
way  it  is  told.” 

All  versions  but  K,  which  has  pretty  nearly 
lost  all  point,  agree  after  the  opening  stanzas. 
A-E  have  three  ladies  and  only  one  knight ; 
F  has  three  knights  and  one  lady  ;  G,  I,  J,  K 
have  three  ladies  and  three  knights  [lords  in 
G,  “  bonny  boys  ”  in  I,  the  first  line  being 
caught  from  ‘  Sir  Hugh.’]  Three  knights  are 
to  no  purpose ;  only  one  knight  has  anything 
to  do.  The  reason  for  three  ladies  is,  of 
course,  that  the  youngest  may  be  preferred  to 
the  others,  —  an  intention  somewhat  obscured 
in  B.  The  ladies  are  in  colors  in  B,  C,  I,  J, 
and  this  seems  to  be  the  better  interpretation 
in  the  case  of  G,  though  a  strict  construction 
of  the  language  would  rather  point  to  the 
other.  The  colors  are  transferred  to  the 

*  Aytoun,  l-8  =  Herd,  1776,  1-8:  9-13  =  Jamieson,  11- 
15:  14, 15=  Herd,  11,12:  16,  17  =  Jamieson,  18,  19  :  18, 
19  =  Herd,  13,  14  :  20-24  =  Jamieson,  21-25. 


knights  in  F  because  there  is  only  one  lady. 
In  K  this  is  a  part  of  the  general  depravation 
of  the  ballad. 

‘Rizzardo  bello,’  Wolf,  Yolkslieder  aus  Ve- 
netien,  No  83,  seems  to  be  the  same  story,  with 
a  change  of  relations  such  as  we  often  find 
in  ballad  poetry.  Rizzardo  is  conducting  his 
bride  home,  and  on  the  way  embraces  and 
kisses  her.  Her  brother  witnesses  “  questo 
onore,”  and  thrusts  his  sword  into  the  happy 
bridegroom’s  heart.  Rizzardo  tells  his  bride 
to  come  on  slowly ;  he  will  go  before  to  make 
preparation.  He  begs  his  mother  to  open  the 
doors,  for  his  bride  is  without,  and  he  is 
wounded  to  death.  They  try  to  make  the 
bride  eat.  x  She  says  she  can  neither  eat  nor 
drink :  si*  must  put  her  husband  to  bed.  He 
gives  her  a  ring,  saying,  Your  brother  has 
been  the  death  of  me ;  then  another  ring,  in 
sign  that  she  is  to  be  wife  of  two  brothers. 
She  answers  him  as  Guldborg  answers  Ribold, 
that  she  would  die  rather:  “Rather  die  be¬ 
tween  two  knives  than  be  wife  of  two  broth¬ 
ers.”  This  ballad  was  obtained  from  a  peas¬ 
ant  woman  of  Castagnero.  Another  version, 
which  unfortunately  is  not  printed,  was  sung 
by  a  woman  at  Ostiglia  on  the  Po. 

Dr  Prior  remarks  that  the  offence  given  by 
not  asking  a  brother’s  assent  to  his  sister’s 
marriage  was  in  ballad-times  regarded  as  un¬ 
pardonable.  Other  cases  which  show  the  im¬ 
portance  of  this  preliminary,  and  the  some¬ 
times  fatal  consequences  of  omitting  it,  are : 

‘  Hr.  Peder  og  Mettelille,’  Grundtvig,  No  78, 
II,  325,  sts  4,  6  ;  ‘"Jomfruen  i  Skoven,’  Danske 
Yiser,  hi,  99,  st.  15 ;  ‘  Jomfru  Ellensborg  og 
Hr.  Olof,’  ib.,  ill,  316,  st.  16  ;  ‘  Iver  Lang  og 
bans  Soster,’  ib.,  iv,  87,  st.  116  ;  ‘  Herr  Helmer 
Blaa,’  ib.,  iv,  251,  st.  8  ;  ‘  Jomfru  Giselmaar,’ 
ib.,  iv,  309,  st.  13.  See  Prior’s  Ancient  Dan¬ 
ish  Ballads,  in,  112,  232  f,  416. 

There  is  a  very  common  German  ballad, 

4  Graf  Friedrich,’  in  which  a  bride  receives  a 
mortal  wound,  during  the  bringing-home,  but 
accidentally,  and  from  the  bridegroom’s  hand. 
The  marriage  train  is  going  up  a  hill;  the  way 
is  narrow  ;  they  are  crowded  ;  Graf  Friedrich’s 
sword  shoots  from  its  sheath  and  wounds  the 
bride.  The  bridegroom  is  exceedingly  dis- 


11.  THE  CRUEL  BROTHER 


143 


tressed ;  he  tries  to  stop  the  bleeding  with  his 
shirt ;  she  begs  that  they  may  ride  slowly. 
When  they  reach  the  house  there  is  a  splendid 
feast,  and  everything  is  set  before  the  bride  ; 
but  she  can  neither  eat  nor  drink,  and  only 
wishes  to  lie  down.  She  dies  in  the  night. 
Her  father  comes  in  the  morning,  and,  learn¬ 
ing  what  has  happened,  runs  Graf  Friedrich 
through,  then  drags  his  body  at  a  horse’s  kfeels, 
and  buries  it  in  a  bog.  Three  lilies  sprang 
from  the  spot,  with  an  inscription  announcing 
that  Graf  Friedrich  was  in  heaven,  and  a  voice 
came  from  the  sky  commanding  that  the  body 
should  be  disinterred.  The  bridegroom  was 
then  buried  with  his  bride,  and  this  act  of 
reparation  was  attended  with  other  miracu¬ 
lous  manifestations.  As  the  ball^ls  stand 
now,  the  kinship  of  ‘Graf  .Friedrich’  with 
‘  The  Cruel  Brother  ’  is  not  close  and  cannot 
be  insisted  on  ;  still  an  early  connection  is  not 
improbable. 

The  versions  of  ‘  Graf  Friedrich  ’  are  some¬ 
what  numerous,  and  there  is  a  general  agree¬ 
ment  as  to  all  essentials.  They  are :  A,  a 
Nuremberg  broadside  “  of  about  1535,”  which 
has  not  been  made  accessible  by  a  reprint. 
B,  a  Swiss  bi*oadside  of  1647,  without  place, 
“  printed  in  Seckendorf’s  Musenalmanach  fiir 
1808,  p.  19  ;  ”  Uhland,  No  122,  p.  277  ;  Mit- 
tler,  No  108;  Wunderhorn,  H,  293  (1857); 
Erk’s  Liederhort,  No  15a,  p.  42  ;  Bohme,  No 
79,  p.  166:  also,  in  Wunderhorn,  1808,  n, 
289,  with  omission  of  five  stanzas  and  with 
many  changes  ;  Simrock,  No  11,  p.  28,  omit¬ 
ting  four  stanzas  and  with  changes ;  as  writ¬ 
ten  down  by  Goethe  for  Herder,  Diintzer  u. 
Herder,  Briefe  Goethes,  u.  s.  w.,  Aus  Herder’s 
Nachlass,  I,  167,  with  the  omission  of  eight 
stanzas  and  with  some  variations.  C,  Wun¬ 
derhorn  (1857),  ii,  299,  from  the  Schwarz- 
wald,  =  Erlach,  iv,  291,  Mittler,  No  113. 
D,  Taschenbuch  fiir  Dicliter,  u.  s.  w.,  Theil 
viii,  122,  from  Upper  Lusatia,  =  Erlach,  in, 
448,  Talvj,  Charakteristik,  p.  421.  E,  from 
the  Kulilandchen,  Meinert,  p.  23,  =  Mittler, 
No  109.  F,  Hoffmann  u.  Richter,  Schlesische 
V.  L.,  No  19,  p.  35,  =  Mittler,  No  112,  Erk’s 
Liederhort,  No  15,  p.  40.  G,  Zingerle,  in 
Wolf’s  Zeitschrift  fiir  deutsche  Mythologie, 


I,  341,  from  Meran.  H,  from  Uckermark, 
Brandenburg,  Mittler,  No  114.  I,  Hesse,  from 
oral  tradition,  Mittler,  No  111.  J,  Erk  u. 
Irmer,  II,  54,  No  54,  from  the  neighborhood 
of  Halle,  =  Mittler,  No  110.  K,  from  Estedt, 
district  of  Magdeburg,  Parisius,  p.  31,  No  9. 

A  Danish  ballad,  ‘  Den  saarede  Jomfru,’ 
Grundtvig,  No  244,  iv,  474,  has  this  slight 
resemblance  with  ‘  Graf  Friedrich  :  ’  While  a 
knight  is  dancing  with  a  princess,  his  sword 
glides  from  the  scabbard  and  cuts  her  hand. 
To  save  her  partner  from  blame,  she  repre¬ 
sents  to  her  father  that  she  had  cut  herself 
with  her  brother’s  sword.  This  considerate¬ 
ness  so  touches  the  knight  (who  is,  of  course, 
her  equal  in  rank)  that  he  offers  her  his  hand. 
The- Danish  story  is  found  also  in  Norwegian 
and  in  Faroe  ballads. 

^  The  peculiar  testament  made  by  the  bride 
in  ‘  The  Cruel  Brother,’  by  which  she  be¬ 
queaths  good  things  to  her  friends,  but  ill 
things  to  the  author  of  her  death,  is  highly 
characteristic  of  ballad  poetry.  It  will  be 
found  again  in  ‘  Lord  Ronald,’  ‘  Edward,’  and 
their  analogues.  Still  other  ballads  with  this 
kind  of  testament  are :  ‘  Frillens  Haevn,’ 
Grundtvig,  No  208  C,  16-18,  iv,  207 ;  a 
young  man,  stabbed  by  liis  leman,  whom  he 
was  about  to  give  up  in  order  to  marry,  leaves 
his  lands  to  his  father,  his  bride-bed  to  his 
sister,  his  gilded  couch  to  his  mother,  and  his 
knife  to  hi#  leman,  wishing  it  in  her  body. 
‘  Moen  paa  Baalet,’  Grundtvig,  No  109  A,  18- 
21,  II,  587  ;  Ole,  falsely  accused  by  her  brother, 
and  condemned  to  be  burned,  gives  her  mother 
her  silken  sark,  her  sister  her  shoes,  her  father 
her  horse,  and  her  brother  her  knife,  with  the 
same  wish.  ‘  Kong  Valdemar  og  bans  Sos- 
ter,’  Grundtvig,  No  126,  ill,  97,  has  a  testa¬ 
ment  in  A-E  and  I ;  in  I,  14-19  (ill,  912), 
Liden  Kirsten  bequeaths  her  knife,  with  the 
same  imprecation,  to  the  queen,  who,  in  the 
other  copies,  is  her  unrelenting  foe  :  so  Lil- 
lelin  to  Herr  Adelbrand,  Danske  Yiser,  III, 
386,  No  162,  16-18,  Kristensen,  i,  262,  No 
100,  A  20-23,  having  been  dragged  at  a  horse's 
heels  in  resentment  of  a  taunt.  ‘  Hustru  og 
Mands  Moder,’  Grundtvig,  No.  84,  H,  404,  has 
a  testament  in  A,  B,  D,  H,  and  in  the  last 


144 


11.  THE  CRUEL  BROTHER 


tlmee  a  bequest  of  shoes  or  sark  to  a  cruel 
mother-in-law  or  foster-mother,  with  the  wish 
that  she  may  have  no  peace  or  much  pain 
in  the  wearing.  ‘  Catarina  de  Li6,’  Briz  y 
Candi,  Cansons  de  la  Terra,  I,  209,  has  been 
beaten  by  her  mother-in-law  while  in  a  deli¬ 
cate  state.  When  she  is  at  the  point  of  death, 
the  mother-in-law  asks  what  doctor  she  will 
have  and  what  will  she  will  make.  “  My 
will,”  says  Catherine,  “  will  not  please  you 
much.  Send  back  my  velvet  dress  to  my  fa¬ 
ther’s  ;  my  gala  dress  give  my  sister ;  give  my 
working  dress  to  the  maid,  my  jewels  to  the 
Virgin.”  “And  what  will  you  leave  to  me?  ” 
“  What  I  leave  you  will  not  please  you  much  : 
my  husband  to  be  hanged,  my  mother-in-law 
to  be  quartered,  and  my  sister-in-law  to  be 
burned.”  ‘  Le  Testament  de  Marion,’  another 
vei'sion  of  this  story  from  the  south  of  France, 
Uchaud,  Gard,  Podsies  pop.  de  la  France,  MS., 
IV,  fob  283,  bequeaths  “  my  laces  to  my  sister 
Marioun,  my  prettiest  gowns  to  my  sister 
Jeanneton ;  to  my  rascal  of  a  husband  three 
fine  cords,  and,  if  that  is  not  enough  (to  hang 
him),  the  hem  of  his  shirt.”  The  Portuguese 
ballad  of  ‘  Dona  Helena  ’  rather  implies  than 
expresses  the  imprecation  :  Braga,  C.  P.  do 
Archipelago  Agoriano,  p.  225,  No  15,  p.  227, 
No  16  ;  Almeida-Garrett,  IH,  56  ;  Hartung,  I, 
233-43,  No  18.  Helena  leaves  her  husband’s 
house  when  near  childbirth,  out  of  fear  of  his 
mother.  Her  husband,  who  does  n<*t  know  her 
reason,  goes  after  her,  and  compels  her  to  re¬ 
turn  on  horseback,  though  she  has  just  borne  a 
son.  The  consequences  are  what  might  be  ex¬ 
pected,  and  Helena  desires  to  make  her  shrift 
and  her  will.  She  leaves  one  thing  to  her  oldest 
sister,  another  to  her  youngest.  “  And  your 
boy?”  “To  your  bitch  of  a  mother,  cause 
of  my  woes.”  “  Rather  to  yours,”  says  the 
husband,  “  for  I  shall  have  to  kill  mine  ”  (so 
Braga  ;  Garrett  differs  somewhat).  ‘  Die  Frau 
zur  Weissenburg  ’  (A),  Uhland,  p.  287,  No 
123  B,  Scherer’s  Jungbrunnen,  p.  94,  No  29; 
‘  Das  Lied  von  der  Lowenburg  ’  (B),  Simrock, 
p.  65,  No  27  ;  ‘  Hans  Steutlinger  ’  (C),  Wun- 


derhorn,  n,  168  (1857),  all  one  story,  have  a 
bitterly  sarcastic  testament.  A  lady  insti¬ 
gates  her  paramour  to  kill  her  husband.  The 
betrayed  man  is  asked  to  whom  he  will  leave 
his  children  [commit,  A,  bequeath,  B,  C]. 
“  To  God  Almighty,  for  he  knows  who  they 
are.”  “  Your  property  ?  ”  “  To  the  poor,  for 
the  rich  have  enough.”  “  Your  wife?”  “To 
young  Count  Frederic,  whom  she  always  liked 
more  than  me  (A).”  “  Your  castle  ?  ”  “  To 

the  flames.” 

In  some  cases  there  is  no  trace  of  animosity 
towards  the  person  who  has  caused  the  tes¬ 
tator’s  death  ;  as  in  ‘  El  testamento  de  Amelia  ’ 
(who  has  been  poisoned  by  her  mother),  Mild, 
Observaciones,  p.  103,  No  5,  Briz  y  Saltd,  Can- 
sons  de  la  Terra,  n,  197  (two  copies)  ;  ‘Her- 
ren  Bald,’  Afzelius,  I,  76,  No  16  (new  ed.  I,  59, 
No  15)  ;  a  Swedish  form  of  ‘Frillens  Hsevn,’ 
Grundtvig,  IV,  203  ;  ‘  Rende  le  Glaz  ’  and  ‘  Er- 
voanik  Le  Lintier,’  Luzel,  C.  P.  de  la  Basse 
Bretagne,  I,  405,  539,  553.  There  are  also 
simple  testaments  where  there  is  no  occasion 
for  an  ill  remembx-ance,  as  in  ‘  Ribold  og 
Guldborg,’  Grundtvig,  No  82,  I,  K,  L,  U,  X, 
A3,  Kristensen,  n,  No  84  B  ;  ‘  Pontplancoat,’ 
Luzel,  I,  383,  391.  And,  again,  there  are  par¬ 
odies  of  these  wills.  Thus  the  fox  makes  his 
will :  Grundtvig,  Gamle  danske  Minder,  1854, 

‘  Mikkels  Arvegods,’  p.  24,  and  p.  25  a  copy 
from  a  manuscript  three  hundred  years  old; 
Kristensen,  Jyske  Folkeviser,  ii,  324,  No  90  ; 
‘Reven  og  Bjonnen,’  ‘  Reven  og  Nils  fiskar,’ 
Landstad,  Nos  85,  86,  p.  637,  639  :  and  the  rob¬ 
in,  ‘  Robin’s  Tesment,’  Buchan,  i,  273,  Herd’s 
MSS,  i,  154,  and  Scottish  Songs  (1776),  n, 
166,  Chambers’  Popular  Rhymes,  p.  38, 
“  new  edition.” 

Translated  in  Grundtvig’s  Engelske  og 
skotske  Folkeviser,  No  33,  p.  212,  F,  with 
use  of  A  and  G  b ;  Aytoun’s  copy,  with  omis¬ 
sions,  by  Rosa  Warrens,  Schottische  Volks- 
lieder  der  Vorzeit,  No  17,  p.  80  ;  after  Al- 
lingham  and  others,  by  Knortz,  Lieder  und 
Romanzen  Alt-Englands,  No  5,  p.  16. 


11.  THE  CRUEL  BROTHER 


145 


A 

a.  Alex.  Fraser  Tytler’s  Brown  MS.  b.  Jamieson’s 
Popular  Ballads,  i,  66,  purporting  to  be  from  the  recitation 
of  Mrs  Arrot  of  Aberbrothick. 

1  There  was  three  ladies  playd  at  the  ba, 

With  a  hey  ho  and  a  lillie  gay 
There  came  a  knight  and  played  oer  them  a’. 
As  the  primrose  spreads  so  sweetly 

I 

2  The  eldest  was  baith  tall  and  fair, 

But  the  youngest  was  beyond  compare. 

3  The  midmost  had  a  graceful  mien, 

But  the  youngest  lookd  like  beautie’s  queen. 

4  The  knight  bowd  low  to  a’  the  three, 

But  to  the  youngest  he  bent  his  knee. 

5  The  ladie  turned  her  head  aside, 

The  knight  he  woo’d  her  to  be  his  bride. 

6  The  ladie  blushd  a  rosy  red, 

And  sayd,  ‘  Sir  knight,  I ’m  too  young  to 
wed.’ 

7  ‘  O  ladie  fair,  give  me  your  hand, 

And  I  ’ll  make  you  ladie  of  a’  my  land.’ 

8  ‘  Sir  knight,  ere  ye  my  favor  win, 

You  maun  get  consent  frae  a’  my  kin.’ 

9  He ’s  got  consent  frae  her  parents  dear, 

And  likewise  frae  her  sisters  fair. 

10  He ’s  got  consent  frae  her  kin  each  one, 

But  forgot  to  spiek  to  her  brother  John. 

11  Now,  when  the  wedding  day  was  come, 

The  knight  would  take  his  bonny  bride  home. 

12  And  many  a  lord  and  many  a  knight 
Came  to  behold  that  ladie  bright. 

13  And  there  was  nae  man  that  did  her  see, 

But  wishd  himself  bridegroom  to  be. 

19 


14  Her  father  dear  led  her  down  the  stair, 

And  her  sisters  twain  they  kissd  her  there. 

15  Her  mother  dear  led  her  thro  the  closs, 

And  her  brother  John  set  her  on  her  horse. 

16  She  leand  her  oer  the  saddle-bow, 

To  give  him  a  kiss  ere  she  did  go. 

17  He  has  taen  a  knife,  baith  lang  and  sharp, 

And  stabbd  that  bonny  bride  to  the  heart. 

18  She  hadno  ridden  half  thro  the  town, 

Until  her  heart’s  blude  staind  her  gown. 

19  *  Ride  softly  on,’  says  the  best  young  man, 
‘For  I  think  our  bonny  bride  looks  pale  and 

wan.’ 

20  ‘  0  lead  me  gently  up  yon  hill, 

And  I  ’ll  there  sit  down,  and  make  my  will.’ 

21  ‘  O  what  will  you  leave  to  your  father  dear  ?  ’ 

‘  The  silver-shod  steed  that  brought  me  here.’ 

22  ‘  What  will  you  leave  to  your  mother  dear  ?  ’ 

‘  My  velvet  pall  and  my  silken  gear.’ 

23  ‘  What  will  you  leave  to  your  sister  Anne  ?  ’ 

‘  My  silken  scarf  and  my  gowden  fan.’ 

24  ‘  What  will  you  leave  to  your  sister  Grace  ?  ’ 

1  My  bloody  cloaths  to  wash  and  dress.’ 

25  ‘  What  will  you  leave  to  your  brother  John  ?  ’ 

‘  The  gallows-tree  to  hang  him  on.’ 

26  ‘  What  will  you  leave  to  your  brother  John’s 

wife  ?  ’ 

‘  The  wilderness  to  end  her  life.’ 

27  This  ladie  fair  in  her  grave  was  laid, 

And  many  a  mass  was  oer  her  said. 

28  But  it  would  have  made  your  heart  right  sair, 
To  see  the  bridegroom  rive  his  haire. 


146 


11.  THE  CRUEL  BROTHER 


B 

Ivinloch’s  MSS,  i,  21,  from  Mary  Barr,  May,  1827,  Clydes¬ 
dale. 

1  A  gentleman  cam  oure  the  sea, 

Fine  flowers  in  the  valley 
And  he  has  courted  ladies  three. 

With  the  light  green  and  the  yellow 

2  One  o  them  was  clad  in  red : 

He  asked  if  she  wad  be  his  bride. 

3  One  o  them  was  clad  in  green : 

He  asked  if  she  wad  be  his  queen. 

4  The  last  o  them  was  clad  in  white  : 

He  asked  if  she  wad  be  his  heart’s  delight. 

5  ‘Ye  may  ga  ask  my  father,  the  king : 

Sae  maun  ye  ask  my  mither,  the  queen. 

6  ‘  Sae  maun  ye  ask  my  sister  Anne  : 

And  dinna  forget  my  hrither  John.’ 

7  He  has  asked  her  father,  the  king  : 

And  sae  did  he  her  mither,  the  queen. 

8  And  he  has  asked  her  sister  Anne  : 

But  he  has  forgot  her  brother  John. 

9  Her  father  led  her  through  the  ha, 

Her  mither  danced  afore  them  a’. 

10  Her  sister  Anne  led  her  through  the  closs, 

Her  brither  John  set  her  on  her  horse. 

11  It ’s  then  he  drew  a  little  penknife, 

And  he  reft  the  fair  maid  o  her  life. 

12  ‘  Ride  up,  ride  up,’  said  the  foremost  man  ; 

‘  I  think  our  bride  comes  hooly  on.’ 

13  ‘  Ride  up,  ride  up,’  said  the  second  man  ; 

‘  I  think  our  bride  looks  pale  and  wan.’ 


14  Up  than  cam  the  gay  bridegroom, 

And  strauclit  unto  the  bride  he  cam. 

15  ‘  Does  your  side-saddle  sit  awry  ? 

Or  does  your  steed  .  .  . 

16  ‘  Or  does  the  rain  run  in  your  glove  ? 

Or  wad  ye  chuse  anither  love  ?  ’ 

17  ‘  The  rain  runs  not  in  my  glove, 

Nor  will  I  e’er  chuse  anither  love. 

18  ‘  But  O  an  I  war  at  Saint  Evron’s  well, 

There  I  wad  licht,  and  drink  my  fill ! 

19  ‘  Oh  an  I  war  at  Saint  Evron’s  closs, 

There  I  wad  licht,  and  bait  my  horse  !  ’ 

20  Whan  she  cam  to  Saint  Evron’s  well, 

She  dought  na  licht  to  drink  her  fill. 

21  Whan  she  cam  to  Saint  Evron’s  closs, 

The  bonny  bride  fell  aff  her  horse. 

22  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  father,  the  king  ?  ’ 
‘  The  milk-white  steed  that  I  ride  on.’ 

23  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  mother,  the 

queen  ?  ’ 

‘  The  bluidy  robes  that  I  have  on.’ 

24  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  sister  Anne  ?  ’ 

‘  My  gude  lord,  to  be  wedded  on.’ 

25  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  brither  John  ?  ’ 

‘  The  gallows  pin  to  hang  him  on.’ 

26  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  brither’s  wife  ?  ’ 

‘  Grief  and  sorrow  a’  the  days  o  her  life.’ 

27  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  brither’s  bairns  ?  ’ 
‘  The  meal-pock  to  hang  oure  the  arms.’ 

28  Now  does  she  neither  sigh  nor  groan  : 

She  lies  aneath  yon  marble  stone. 


11.  THE  CRUEL  BROTHER 


147 


C 

Harris  MS.,  p.  lib,  No  7. 

1  There  waur  three  ladies  in  a  ha, 

Hech  hey  an  the  lily  gey 
By  cam  a  knicht,  an  he  wooed  them  a’. 
An  the  rose  is  aye  the  redder  aye 

2  The  first  ane  she  was  cled  in  green  ; 

‘  Will  you  fancy  me,  an  be  my  queen  ?  ’ 

3  ‘  You  may  seek  me  frae  my  father  dear, 
An  frae  my  mither,  wha  did  me  bear. 

4  ‘You  may  seek  me  frae  my  sister  Anne, 
But  no,  no,  no  frae  my  hrither  John.’ 

5  The  niest  ane  she  was  cled  in  yellow  ; 

‘  Will  you  fancy  me,  an  be  my  marrow  ?  ’ 

6  ‘Ye  may  seek  me  frae  my  father  dear, 
An  frae  my  mither,  wha  did  me  bear. 

7  ‘Ye  may  seek  me  frae  my  sister  Anne, 
But  no,  no,  no  frae  my  brither  John.’ 

8  The  niest  ane  she  was  cled  in  red  : 

‘  Will  ye  fancy  me,  an  be  my  bride  ?  ’ 

9  ‘Ye  may  seek  me  frae  my  father  dear, 
An  frae  my  mither  wha  did  me  bear. 


D 

Notes  and  Queries,  1st  S.,  vi,  53,  2d  S.,  v,  171.  As  sung 
by  a  lady  who  was  a  native  of  County  Kerry,  Ireland. 

1  There  were  three  ladies  playing  at  ball, 
Farin-dan-dan  and  farin-dan-dee 


10  ‘  Ye  may  seek  me  frae  my  sister  Anne, 

An  dinna  forget  my  brither  John.’ 

11  He  soclit  her  frae  her  father,  the  king, 

An  he  socht  her  frae  her  mither,  the  queen. 

12  He  socht  her  frae  her  sister  Anne, 

But  he  forgot  her  brither  John. 

13  Her  mither  she  put  on  her  goun, 

An  her  sister  Anne  preened  the  ribbons  doun. 

14  Her  father  led  her  doon  the  close, 

An  her  brither  John  set  her  on  her  horse. 

*  *  *  #  * 

15  Up  an  spak  our  foremost  man  : 

‘  I  think  our  bonnie  bride’s  pale  an  wan.’ 

#  *  *  *  # 

16  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  father  dear  ?  ’ 

‘  My  ......  an  my . chair.’ 

17  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  mither  dear  ?  ’ 

‘  My  silken  screen  I  was  wont  to  wear.’ 

18  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  sister  Anne  ?  ’ 

‘  My  silken  snood  an  my  golden  fan.’ 

19  ‘  What  will  you  leave  to  your  brither  John  ?  ’ 

‘  The  gallows  tree  to  hang  him  on.’ 


There  came  a  white  knight,  and  he  wooed  them 
all. 

With  adieu,  sweet  honey,  wherever  *you  be 

2  He  courted  the  eldest  with  golden  rings, 

And  the  others  with  many  fine  things. 

And  adieu,  etc. 


E 

Notes  and  Queries,  4th  S.,  v,  105.  From  Forfarshire,  W.  F. 

There  were  three  sisters  play  in  at  the  ba, 

Wi  a  hech  hey  an  a  lillie  gay 


There  cam  a  knicht  an  lookt  ower  the  wa’. 
An  the  primrose  springs  sae  sweetly. 

Sing  Annet,  an  Marret,  an  fair  Maisrie, 
An  the  dew  hangs  i  the  wood,  gay  ladie. 


148 


11.  THE  CRUEL  BROTHER 


F 

Gilbert’s  Ancient  Christmas  Carols,  2d  ed.,  p.  68,  as  re¬ 
membered  by  the  editor.  West  of  England. 

1  There  did  three  knights  come  from  the  west, 

With  the  high  and  the  lily  oh 
Anri  these  three  knights  courted  one  lady. 

As  the  rose  was  so  sweetly  blown 

2  The  first  knight  came  was  all  in  white, 

And  asked  of  her,  if  she ’d  be  his  delight. 

3  The  next  knight  came  was  all  in  green, 

And  asked  of  her,  if  she  ’d  be  his  queen. 

4  The  third  knight  came  was  all  in  red, 

And  asked  of  her,  if  she  would  wed. 

5  ‘  Then  have  you  asked  of  my  father  dear, 
Likewise  of  her  who  did  me  bear  ? 

6  ‘  And  have  you  asked  of  my  brother  John  ? 
And  also  of  my  sister  Anne  ?  ’ 

7  ‘  Yes,  I  have  asked  of  your  father  dear, 
Likewise  of  her  who  did  you  bear. 

8  ‘  And  I  have  asked  of  your  sister  Anne, 

But  I ’ve  not  asked  of  your  brother  John.’ 

9  Far  on  the  road  as  they  rode  along,  * 

There  did  they  meet  with  her  brother  John. 


G 

a.  Herd’s  MSS,  i,  41.  b.  Herd’s  Scottish  Songs,  1776, 

I,  88. 

1  There  was  three  ladys  in  a  ha, 

Fine  flowers  i  the  valley 
There  came  three  lords  amang  them  a’, 

Wi  the  red,  green,  and  the  yellow 

2  The  first  of  them  was  clad  in  red: 

‘  0  lady  fair,  will  you  be  my  bride  ?  ’ 

3  The  second  of  them  was  clad  in  green  : 

‘  0  lady  fair,  will  you  be  my  queen  ?  ’ 

4  The  third  of  them  was  clad  in  yellow : 

‘  0  lady  fair,  will  you  be  my  marrow  ?  ’ 


10  She  stooped  low  to  kiss  him  sweet, 

He  to  her  heart  did  a  dagger  meet. 

11  ‘  Bide  on,  ride  on,’  cried  the  serving  man, 
‘Methinks  your  bride  she  looks  wondrous 

wan.’ 

12  ‘I  wish  I  were  on  yonder  stile, 

For  there  I  would  sit  and  bleed  awhile. 

13  ‘I  wish  I  were  on  yonder  hill, 

There  I  ’d  alight  and  make  my  will.’ 

14  ‘  What  would  you  give  to  your  father  dear  ?  ’ 

‘  The  gallant  steed  which  doth  me  bear.’ 

15  ‘  What  would  you  give  to  your  mother  dear  ?  ’ 

‘  My  wedding  shift  which  I  do  wear. 

16  ‘  But  she  must  wash  it  very  clean, 

For  my  heart’s  blood  sticks  in  evry  seam.’ 

17  ‘  What  would  you  give  to  your  sister  Anne  ?  ’ 

‘  My  gay  gold  ring  and  my  feathered  fan.’ 

18  ‘  What  would  you  give  to  your  brother  John  ?  ’ 
‘  A  rope  and  gallows  to  hang  him  on.’ 

19  ‘  What  would  you  give  to  your  brother  John's 

wife  ?  ’ 

‘  A  widow’s  weeds,  and  a  quiet  life.’ 


5  ‘You  must  ask  my  father  dear, 

Likewise  the  mother  that  did  me  bear.’ 

6  ‘  You  must  ask  my  sister  Ann, 

And  not  forget  my  brother  John.’ 

7  ‘  I  have  askt  thy  father  dear, 

Likewise  thy  mother  that  did  thee  bear. 

8  ‘  I  have  askt  thy  sister  Ann, 

But  I  forgot  thy  brother  John.’ 

9  Her  father  led  her  through  the  ha, 

Her  mother  dancd  before  them  a’. 

10  Her  sister  Ann  led  her  through  the  closs, 
Her  brother  John  put  her  on  her  horse. 


11.  THE  CRUEL  BROTHER 


149 


31  ‘You  are  high  and  I  am  low ; 

Let  me  have  a  kiss  before  you  go.’ 

12  She  was  touting  down  to  kiss  him  sweet, 
Wi  his  penknife  he  wounded  her  deep. 

*  *  *  *  * 

13  ‘  O  lead  me  over  into  yon  stile, 

That  I  may  stop  and  breath  a  while. 

14  ‘  O  lead  me  over  to  yon  stair, 

For  there  I  ’ll  ly  and  bleed  ne  mail*.’ 


16  ‘O  what  will  you  leave  your  mother  dear?’ 

‘  The  silken  gown  that  I  did  wear.’ 

17  ‘  What  will  you  leave  your  sister  Ann  ?  ’ 

‘  My  silken  snood  and  golden  fan.’ 

18  ‘  What  will  you  leave  your  brother  John  ?  ’ 

‘  The  highest  gallows  to  hang  him  on.’ 

19  ‘  What  will  you  leave  your  brother  John’s 

wife  ?  ’ 

‘  Grief  and  sorrow  to  end  her  life.’ 

‘  What  will  ye  leave  your  brother  John’s 
bairns  ?  ’ 

‘  The  world  wide  for  them  to  range.’ 


15  ‘  0  what  will  you  leave  your  father  dear  ?  ’ 

‘  That  milk-white  steed  that  brought  me  here.’  20 


H 

Herd’s  MSS,  i,  44,  ii,  75;  Scottish  Songs,  1776,  i,  90; 
appended  to  G. 

She  louted  down  to  gie  a  kiss, 

With  a  hey  and  a  lilly  gay 

I 

Kinloch’s  MSS,  i,  27.  From  Mrs  Bouchart,  an  old  lady 
native  of  Forfarshire. 

1  There  war  three  bonnie  boys  playing  at  the 

ba, 

Hech  hey  and  a  lily  gay 
There  cam  three  ladies  to  view  them  a’. 

And  the  rose  it  smells  sae  sweetlie 

2  The  first  ane  was  clad  in  red  : 

‘  O,’  says  he,  ‘  ye  maun  be  my  bride.’ 

3  The  next  o  them  was  clad  in  green : 

‘  O,’  says  he,  ‘  ye  maun  be  my  queen.’ 

4  The  tither  o  them  was  clad  in  yellow : 

‘  O,’  says  he,  ‘  ye  maun  be  my  marrow.’ 

5  ‘Ye  maun  gang  to  my  father’s  bouer, 

To  see  gin  your  bride  he  ’ll  let  me  be.’ 

6  Her  father  led  her  doun  the  stair, 

Her  mither  at  her  back  did  bear. 

7  Her  sister  Jess  led  her  out  the  closs, 

Her  brother  John  set  her  on  the  horse. 


He  stuck  his  penknife  in  her  hass. 

And  the  rose  it  smells  so  sweetly 

‘  Ride  up,  ride  up,’  cry’d  the  foremost  man ; 
‘  I  think  our  bride  looks  pale  and  wan.’ 


8  She  loutit  doun  to  gie  him  a  kiss  ; 

He  struck  his  penknife  thro  her  breist. 

9  ‘  Ride  on,  ride  on,’  says  the  foremaist  man  ; 

‘  I  think  our  bi’ide  looks  pale  and  wan.’ 

10  ‘Ride  on,  ride  on,’  says  the  merry  bride¬ 

groom  ; 

‘  I  think  my  bride’s  blude  is  rinnin  doun.’ 

11  ‘  0  gin  I  war  at  yon  bonnie  hill, 

I  wad  lie  doun  and  bleed  my  fill ! 

12  ‘  0  gin  I  war  at  yon  bonnie  kirk-yard, 

I  wad  mak  my  testament  there  !  ’ 

13  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  father  dear  ?  ’ 

‘  The  milk-white  steed  that  brocht  me  here.’ 

14  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  mother  dear  ?  ’ 

‘  The  bluidy  robes  that  I  do  wear.’ 

15  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  sister  Ann  ?  ’ 

‘  My  silken  snood  and  gowden  fan.’ 

16  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  sister  Jess?  ’ 

‘  The  bonnie  lad  that  I  loe  best.’ 


150 


11.  THE  CRUEL  BROTHER 


17  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  brother  John  ?  ’  19  ‘What  will  ye  leave  to  your  brother’s  bairns?’ 

‘  The  gallows  pin  to  hang  him  on.’  ‘  The  warld ’s  wide,  and  let  them  beg.’ 

18  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  brother  John’s 

wife  ?  ’ 

‘  Sorrow  and  trouble  a’  her  life.’ 


J 

From  Miss  Margaret  Reburn,  as  current  in  County  Meath, 
Ireland,  about  1860. 

1  There  were  three  sisters  playing  ball, 

With  the  high  and  the  lily  O 
And  there  came  three  knights  to  court  them 
all. 

With  the  rosey  sweet,  heigh  ho 

2  The  eldest  of  them  was  drest  in  green : 

‘ 1  wish  I  had  you  to  he  my  queen.’ 

3  The  second  of  them  was  drest  in  red  : 

‘ 1  wish  I  had  you  to  grace  my  bed.’ 

4  The  youngest  of  them  was  drest  in  white  : 

‘ 1  wish  I  had  you  to  he  my  wife.’ 

5  ‘  Did  ye  ask  my  father  brave.  ? 

Or  did  ye  ask  my  mother  fair  ? 

6  ‘  Or  did  ye  ask  my  brother  John  ? 

For  without  his  will  I  dare  not  move  on.’ 


7  ‘  I  did  ask  your  parents  dear, 

But  I  did  not  see  your  brother  John.’ 

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8  ‘  Ride  on,  ride  on,’  said  the  first  man, 

‘  For  I  fear  the  bride  comes  slowly  on.’ 

9  ‘  Ride  on,  ride  on,’  said  the  next  man, 

‘  For  lo  !  the  bride  she  comes  bleeding  on.’ 

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10  ‘  What  will  you  leave  your  mother  dear  ?  ’ 

‘  My  heart’s  best  love  for  ever  and  aye.’ 

11  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  your  sister  Anne  ?  ’ 

‘  This  wedding  garment  that  I  have  on.’ 

12  ‘What  will  ye  leave  your  brother  John’s 

wife  ?  ’ 

‘  Grief  and  sorrow  all  the  days  of  her  life.’ 

13  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  your  brother  John  ?  ’ 

‘  The  highest  gallows  to  hang  him  on.’ 

14  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  your  brother  John’s  son  ?  ’ 
‘  The  grace  of  God  to  make  him  a  man.’ 


K 

Notes  and  Queries,  4th  S.,  iv,  517,  as  “  sung  in  Cheshire 
amongst  the  people  ”  in  the  last  century.  T.  W. 

1  There  were  three  ladies  playing  at  ball, 

Gilliver,  Gentle,  and  Rosemary 
There  came  three  knights  and  looked  over  the 
wall. 

Sing  O  the  red  rose  and  the  white  lilly 

2  The  first  young  knight,  he  was  clothed  in  red, 
And  he  said,  ‘  Gentle  lady,  with  me  will  you 

wed  ?  ’ 

3  The  second  young  knight,  he  was  clothed  in 

blue, 

And  he  said,  ‘  To  my  love  I  shall  ever  be 
true.’ 


4  The  third  young  knight,  he  was  clothed  in 

green, 

And  he  said,  ‘  Fairest  maiden,  will  you  be  my 

queen  ?  ’ 

5  The  lady  thus  spoke  to  the  knight  in  red, 

‘  With  you,  sir  knight,  I  never  can  wed.’ 

6  The  lady  then  spoke  to  the  knight  in  blue, 

And  she  said,  ‘  Little  faith  I  can  have  in  you.’ 

7  The  lady  then  spoke  to  the  knight  in  green, 
And  she  said,  ‘  ’T  is  at  court  you  must  seek  for 

a  queen.’ 

8  The  three  young  knights  then  rode  away, 

And  the  ladies  they  laughed,  and  went  back  to 

their  play. 

Singing,  etc. 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


151 


A.  b.  62.  oer  young. 

102.  spear  at. 

172.  the  bonny. 

191.  said. 

231.  And  what  will  ye. 

251.  This  fair  lady.  2.  And  a  mass. 
Variations  of  A ytoun's  copy ,  sts.  9-13,  16,  17, 
20-24  :  ll1  omits  And;  121,  131  omit  dear ; 
132  omits  And ;  161,  through  half  for  half 
thro  ;  172  omits  For,  bonny ;  212,  pearlin  for 
silken ;  221  omits  And ;  222,  My  silken 
gown  that  stands  its  lane ;  232,  shirt  for 
eloaths  ;  241,  And  what ;  242,  The  gates  o 
hell  to  let  him  in. 

B.  u  I  have  seen  a  fragment  of  another  copy  in 
which  [the  burden  is] 

The  red  rose  and  the  lily 
And  the  roses  spring  fu  sweetly.”  Kinloch, 
p.  19. 

F.  91.  For  on  the  road. 

G.  a.  1.  Burden 2.  The  red,  green,  etc. :  after¬ 
wards,  Wi  the  red,  etc. 


22.  MS.  also,  He  askt  of  me  if  I ’d  be  his 
bride. 

32.  MS.  also,  He  askt  of  me  if  I ’d  be  his 
queen. 

42.  MS.  also,  He  askt  me  if  I ’d  be  his  mar¬ 
row. 

152.  MS.  also,  The  gold  and  silver  that  I  have 
here. 

162.  MS.  also,  The  silken  garment. 

172.  MS.  also,  My  satine  hat. 

202,  MS.  also,  The  world  wide,  let  them  go 
beg. 

b.  72.  the  mother. 

b.  141.  into  yon  stair. 

Variations  of  Aytouris  copy ,  sts.  1-8,  14,  15, 
18,  19  from  Herd,  1776  :  l1,  three  sisters  ; 
22,  32,  42  omit  fair ;  51,  0  ye  maun  ;  61,  And 
ye  ;  71,  O  I  have  ;  81,  And  I  have  ask’d  your 
sister ;  82,  your  brother ;  142,  Give  me  a 
kiss  ;  152,  When  wi  his  knife. 

H.  “  I  have  heard  this  song,  to  a  very  good  tune 
not  in  any  collection,  with  the  above  varia¬ 
tions  —  the  chorus,  of  the  whole  as  in  the 
above  two  verses.”  Herd’s  note  in  his  MSS. 


12 

LORD  RANDAL 


A.  From  a  manuscript  copy,  probably  of  the  beginning 
of  this  century. 

B.  ‘  Lord  Donald, ’•  Kinloch’s  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads, 

p.  110. 

C.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  69. 

D.  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  1803,  hi,  292. 

E.  Halliwell’s  Popular  Rhymes  and  Nursery  Tales,  p. 
261. 

F.  *  Lord  Ronald,  my  Son,’  Johnson’s  Museum,  No 
327,  p.  337. 

G.  Illustrations  of  Northern  Antiquities,  p.  319. 

H.  From  recitation,  1881. 

I.  ‘Tiranti,  my  Son.’  a.  Communicated  by  a  lady  of 
Boston,  b.  By  an  aunt  of  the  same.  c.  By  a  lady 


of  New  Bedford,  d.  By  a  lady  of  Cambridge,  e,  f,  g. 
By  ladies  of  Boston. 

J.  ‘The  Bonnie  Wee  Croodlin  Dow,’  Motherwell’s 
MS.,  p.  238. 

K.  a.  ‘  The  Croodlin  Doo,’  Chambers,  Scottish  Bal¬ 
lads,  p.  324.  b.  ‘  The  Wee  Croodlen  Doo,’  Cham¬ 
bers,  Popular  Rhymes,  1842,  p.  53.  c.  Johnson’s 
Museum,  by  Stenhouse  and  Laing,  iv,  364*. 

L.  ‘  Willie  Doo,’  Buchan’s  MSS,  ii,  322,  and  Ballads, 
ii,  179. 

M.  ‘  The  Croodin  Doo,’  Chambers,  Popular  Rhymes, 
1870,  p.  51. 

N.  Kinloch  MSS,  v,  347. 

O.  ‘  The  Croodlin  Doo.’  From  a  manuscript  belong¬ 
ing  to  the  Fraser-Tytler  family. 


152 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


The  title  ‘  Lord  Randal  ’  is  selected  for  this 
ballad  because'  that  name  occurs  in  one  of  the 
better  versions,  and  because  it  has  become  fa¬ 
miliar  through  Scott’s  Minstrelsy.  Scott  says 
that  the  hero  was  more  generally  termed  Lord 
Ronald :  but  in  the  versions  that  have  come 
down  to  us  this  is  not  so.  None  of  these  can 
be  traced  back  further  than  a  century.  P 
and  D  were  the  earliest  published.  Jamieson 
remarks  with  respect  to  G  (1814)  :  “An 
English  gentleman,  who  had  never  paid  any 
attention  to  ballads,  nor  ever  read  a  collection 
of  such  things,  told  me  that  when  a  child  he 
learnt  from  a  playmate  of  his  own  age,  the 
daughter  of  a  clergyman  in  Suffolk,  the  fol¬ 
lowing  imperfect  ditty.”  I,  a  version  current 
in  eastern  Massachusetts,  may  be  carried  as 
far  back  as  any.  a,  b  derive  from  Elizabeth 
Foster,  whose  parents,  both  natives  of  eastern 
Massachusetts,  settled,  after  their  marriage,  in 
Maine,  where  she  was  born  in  1789.  Eliza¬ 
beth  Foster’s  mother  is  remembered  to  have 
sung  the  ballad,  and  I  am  informed  that  the 
daughter  must  have  learned  it  not  long  after 
1789,  since  she  was  removed  in  her  childhood 
from  Maine  to  Massachusetts,  and  continued 
there  till  her  death.  ‘  Tiranti  ’  [‘  Taranti  ’] 
may  not  improbably  be  a  corruption  of  Lord 
Randal. 

The  copy  in  Smith’s  Scottish  Minstrel,  in, 
58,  is  Scott’s  altered.  The  first  four  stanzas 
are  from  the  Border  Minstrelsy,  except  the 
last  line  of  the  fourth,  which  is  from  Johnson’s 
Museum.  The  last  two  stanzas  are  a  poor 
modern  invention. 

Three  stanzas  which  are  found  in  A.  Cun¬ 
ningham’s  Scottish  Songs,  I,  286  f,  may  be 
given  for  what  they  are  worth.  ‘  The  house 
of  Marr,’  in  the  first,  is  not  to  be  accepted  on 
the  simple  ground  of  its  appearance  in  his 
pages.  The  second  is  inserted  in  his  beauti¬ 
fied  edition  of  Scott’s  ballad,  and  has  its  bur¬ 
den  accordingly ;  but  there  is,  besides  this,  no 
internal  evidence  against  the  second,  and  none 
against  the  third. 

*  Opera  nuova,  nella  quale  si  contiene  una  incatenatura 
di  piu  villanelle  ed  nitre  cose  ridiculose.  .  .  .  Data  in  luce 
per  me  Camillo,  detto  il  Bianchino,  cieco  Fiorentino.  Flie- 


‘  O  where  have  you  been,  Lord  Ronald,  my  son  ? 

O  where  have  you  been,  my  handsome  young  man  ?  ’ 
‘  At  the  house  of  Marr,  mother,  so  make  my  bed 
soon, 

For  I ’m  wearied  with  hunting,  and  fain  would  lie 
down.’ 

‘  0  where  did  she  find  them,  Lord  Randal,  my  son  ? 
0  where  did  she  catch  them,  my  handsome  young 
man  ?  ’ 

‘  Neath  the  hush  of  brown  bracken,  so  make  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  wae  and  I ’m  weary,  and  fain  would  lie 
down.’ 

‘  0  what  got  your  bloodhounds,  Lord  Ronald,  my 

son  ? 

0  what  got  your  bloodhounds,  my  handsome  young 
man  ?  ’ 

‘  They  lapt  the  broo,  mother,  so  make  my  bed  soon, 
I  rnn  wearied  with  hunting,  and  fain  would  lie 
down.’ 

A  pot-pourri  or  quodlibet,  reprinted  in 
Wolff’s  Egeria,  p.  53,  from  a  Veronese  broad¬ 
side  of  tbe  date  1629,  shows  that  this  ballad 
was  popular  in  Italy  more  than  250  years 
ago ;  for  the  last  but  one  of  the  fragments 
which  make  up  the  medley  happens  to  be  the 
first  three  lines  of  ‘  L’Avvelenato,’  very  nearly 
as  they  are  sung  at  the  present  day,  and  these 
are  introduced  by  a  summary  of  the  story : 

“  Io  vo’  finire  con  questa  d’un  amante 
Tradito  dalV  amata. 

Oh  che  l’e  si  garbata 
A  cantarla  in  ischiera  : 

‘  Dov'  andastu  iersera, 

Figliuol  mio  ricco,  savio  e  gentile  ? 

Dov ’  andastu  iersera  ’  ?  ”  * 

The  ballad  was  first  recovered  in  1865,  by 
Dr  G.  B.  Bolza,  who  took  it  down  from  the 
singing  of  very  young  girls  at  Loveno.  Since 
then  good  copies  have  been  found  at  Venice. 
A,  ‘  L’Avvelenato,’  Bolza,  Canzoni  popolari 
comasche,  No  49,  Sitzungsberichte  of  the 
Vienna  Academy  (philos.  histor.  class),  liii, 

gendes  Blatt  von  Verona,  1629.  Egeria,  p.  53;  p.  260,  note 
31.  —  With  the  above  (Egeria,  p.  59)  compare  especially  the 
beginning  of  Italian  B,  further  on. 


[To  *  Lord  Randal/  p.  1 52  f.] 

I  have  unaccountably  failed  to  mention 
(though  I  had  made  note  of  them)  three  ver¬ 
sions  of  ‘  L’Avvelenato  ’  which  are  cited  by 
Professor  D’Ancona  in  his  Poesia  popolare 
italiana,  p.  106  ff. 

D.  The  Canon  Lorenzo  Panciatichi  refers 
.to  the  ballad  in  a  ‘  Cicalata  in  lode  della  Pa- 
della  e  della  Frittura,’  recited  at  the  Crusca, 
September  24,  1656,  and  in  such  manner  as 
shows  that  it  was  well  known.  He  quotes 
the  first  question  of  the  mother,  ‘  Dove  an- 
dastu  a  cena,’  etc.  To  this  the  son  answered, 
he  says,  that  he  had  been  poisoned  with  a 
roast  eel ;  and  the  mother  asking  what  the 
lady  had  cooked  it  in,  the  reply  was,  In  the 
oil  pot. 

E.  A  version  obtained  by  D’Ancona  from 
the  singing  of  a  young  fellow  from  near  Pisa, 
of  which  the  first  four  stanzas  are  given. 


Some  verses  after  these  are  lost,  for  the  testa¬ 
ment  is  said  to  supervene  immediately. 

F.  A  version  from  Lecco,  which  has  the 
title,  derived  from  its  burden,  ‘  De  lu  cavalieri 
e  figliu  de  re,’  A.  Trifone  Nutricati  Briganti, 
Intorno  ai  Canti  e  Racconti  popolari  del  Lec- 
cese,  p.  IT.  The  first  four  stanzas  are  cited, 
and  it  appears  from  these  that  the  prince  had 
cooked  the  eel  himself,  and,  appropriately,  in 
a  gold  pan. 

[To  ‘The  Cruel  Brother/  p.  142.] 

I  will  take  the  opportunity  to  remark  that 
Nigra  has  just  republished  in  Romania  XI, 
391,  ‘  Luggieri,’  a  version,  from  Arezzo,  of 
‘  Rizzardo  bello,’  previously  printed  by  Giulio 
Salvatori  in  the  Rassegna  Settimanale,  No. 
77,  Rome,  June.  22,  1879.  Nigra  treats  ‘  Lug¬ 
gieri  ’  as  a  variety  of  ‘  Jean  Renaud.’  To  me 
it  seems  an  independent  ballad. 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


668,  is  of  seventeen  stanzas,  of  seven  short 
lines,  all  of  which  repeat  but  two :  the  8th 
and  10th  stanzas  are  imperfect.*  A  mother 
inquires  of  her  son  where  he  has  been.  He 
has  been  at  his  mistress’s,  where  he  has  eaten 
part  of  an  eel ;  the  rest  was  given  to  a  dog, 
that  died  in  the  street.  The  mother  declares 
that  he  has  been  poisoned.  He  bids  her  send 
for  the  doctor  to  see  him,  for  the  curate  to 
shrive  him,  for  the  notary  to  make  his  will. 
He  leaves  his  mother  his  palace,  his  brothers 
his  carriage  and  horses,  his  sisters,  a  dowry, 
his  servants  a  free  passage  to  mass  (“  la  strada 
d’anda  a  messa  ”  ==  nothing),  a  hundred  and 
fifty  masses  for  his  soul ;  for  his  mistress  the 
gallows  to  hang  her.  B,  C,  ‘  L’Avvelenato,’ 
Bernoni,  Nuovi  Canti  popolari  veneziani,  1874, 
No  1,  p.  5,  p.  3,  have  twelve  and  eighteen 
four-line  stanzas,  the  questions  and  answers 
in  successive  stanzas,  and  the  last  three  lines 
of  the  first  pair  repeated  respectively  through¬ 
out.!  B,  which  is  given  as  a  variant  of  C, 
agrees  with  A  as  to  the  agent  in  the  young 
man’s  death.  It  is  his  mistress  in  B,  but  in 
C  it  is  his  mother.  In  both,  as  in  A,  he  has 
eaten  of  an  eel.  The  head  he  gave  to  the 
dogs,  the  tail  to  the  cats  (C).  He  leaves  to 
his  stewards  (castaldi)  his  carriages  and  horses 
(C)  ;  to  his  herdsmen  his  cows  and  fields  ;  to 
the  maids  his  chamber  furnishings  ;  to  his 
sister  the  bare  privilege  of  going  to  mass  (C, 
as  in  A)  ;  to  his  mother  [wife,  C]  the  keys 
of  his  treasure.  “  La  forca  per  picarla  ”  is  in 
B  as  in  A  the  bequest  to  his  false  love,  in¬ 
stead  of  whom  we  have  his  mother  in  C. 

The  corresponding  German  ballad  has  been 
known  to  the  English  for  two  generations 
through  Jamieson’s  translation.  The  several 
versions,  all  from  oral  tradition  of  this  century, 

*  It  begins : 

“  Dove  si  sta  jersira, 

Figliuol  mio  caro,  Jiorito  e  gentil  t 
Dove  si  std  jersira  ?  ” 

“  Sou  sta  dalla  mia  dama; 

Signora  Mama ,  mio  core  sta  mol ! 

Son  std  dalla  mia  dama  ; 

Ohime  !  ch'io  moro,  ohime  !  ” 

t  E.g.  (B): 

1  “  E  dove  xestu  sta  gieri  sera, 

Figlio  mio  rico,  sapio  e  gentil  ? 

20 


153 

show  the  same  resemblances  and  differences 
as  the  English. 

A,  B,  ‘  Schlangenkochin,’  eight  stanzas  of 
six  lines,  four  of  which  are  burden,  A,  Lieder- 
hort,  p.  6,  No  2a,  from  the  neighborhood  of 
Wilsnack,  Brandenburg,  B,  Peter,  I,  187,  No 
6,  from  Weidenau,  Austrian  Silesia,  run  thus  : 
Henry  tells  his  mother  that  he  has  been  at 
his  sweetheart’s  (but  not  a-hunting)  ;  has  had 
a  speckled  fish  to  eat,  part  of  which  was  given 
to  the  dog  [cat,  B],  which  burst.  Henry 
wishes  his  father  and  mother  all  blessings,  and 
hell-pains  to  his  love,  A  6-8.  His  mother,  B  8, 
asks  where  she  shall  make  his  bed :  he  replies, 
In  the  church-yard.  C,  ‘  Grossmutter  Schlang¬ 
enkochin,’  first  published  in  1802,  in  Maria’s 
(Clemens  Brentano’s)  romance  Godwi,  n,  113, 
afterward  in  the  W underhorn,  1, 19  (ed.  1819, 
I,  20,  ed.  1857),  has  fourteen  two-line  stanzas, 
or  seven  of  four  lines,  one  half  burden.  The 
copy  in  Zuccalmaglio,  p.  217,  No  104,  “  from 
Hesse  and  North  Germany,”  is  the  same  thing 
with  another  line  of  burden  intercalated  and 
two  or  three  slight  changes.  Maria  has  been 
at  her  grandmother’s,  who  gave  her  a  fish  to 
eat  which  she  had  caught  in  her  kitchen  gar¬ 
den  ;  the  dog  ate  the  leavings,  and  his  belly 
burst.  The  conclusion  agrees  with  B,  neither 
having  the  testament.  D, 4  Stiefmutter,’  seven 
stanzas  of  four  short  lines,  two  being  burden, 
Uhland,  No  120,  p.  272  ;  excepting  one  slight 
variation,  the  same  as  Liederhort,  p.  5,  No  2, 
from  the  vicinity  of  Biickeburg,  Lippe-Schaum- 
burg.  A  child  has  been  at  her  mother’s  sis¬ 
ter’s  house,  where  she  has  had  a  well-peppered 
broth  and  a  glass  of  red  wine.  The  dogs 
[and  cats]  had  some  broth  too,  and  died  on 
the  spot.  The  child  wishes  its  father  a  seat 
in  heaven,  for  its  mother  one  in  hell.  E, 

E  dove  xestu  sta  gieri  sera, 

Gentil  mio  cavalier?  ” 

2  “  E  mi  so’  stato  da  la  mia  bela; 

Signora  madre,  el  mio  cuor  sta,  mal ! 

E  mi  so’  stato  da  la  mia  bela; 

Oh  Dio,  che  moro,  ohirnb !  ” 

3  “  E  cossa  t’ida  dato  da  cena, 

Figlio  mio?  ”  etc. 

4  “E  la  m’ii  dato  ’n’anguila  rostita; 

Signora  madre,”  etc. 


154 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


‘  Kind,  wo  bist  du  denn  henne  west  ?  ’  Reiffen- 
berg,  p.  8,  No  4,  from  Bokendorf,  Westphalia, 
four  stanzas  of  six  lines,  combining  question 
and  answer,  two  of  the  six  burden.  A  child 
has  been  at  its  step-aunt’s,  and  has  had  a  bit 
of  a  fish  caught  in  the  nettles  along  the  wall. 
The  child  gives  all  its  goods  to  its  brother, 
its  clothes  to  its  sister,  but  three  devils  to 
its  [step-]mother.  F,  ‘  Das  vergiftete  kind,’ 
seven  four-line  stanzas,  two  burden,  Schuster, 
Siebenbiirgisch-sachsische  V.  L.,  p.  62,  No 
58,  from  Miihlbach.  A  child  tells  its  father 
that  its  heart  is  bursting;  it  has  eaten  of  a 
fish,  given  it  by  its  mother,  which  the  father 
declares  to  be  an  adder.  The  child  wishes 
its  father  a  seat  in  heaven,  its  mother  one  in 
hell. 

A,  B  are  nearer  to  ‘  Lord  Randal,’  and  have 
even  the  name  Henry  which  we  find  in  Eng¬ 
lish  C.  C-F  are  like  J-O,  ‘  The  Croodlin  Doo.’ 

Dutch.  4  Isabelle,’  Snellaert,  p.  73,  No  67, 
seven  four-line  stanzas,  the  first  and  fourth 
lines  repeated  in  each.  Isabel  has  been  sew¬ 
ing  at  her  aunt’s,  and  has  eaten  of  a  fish  with 
yellow  stripes  that  had  been  caught  with  tongs 
in  the  cellar.  The  broth,  poured  into  the 
street,  caused  the  dogs  to  burst.  She  wishes 
her  aunt  a  red-hot  furnace,  herself  a  spade  to 
bury  her,  her  brother  a  wife  like  his  mother. 

Swedish.  A,  4  Den  lillas  Testamente,’  ten 
five-line  stanzas,  three  lines  burden,  Afzelius, 
in,  13,  No  68 ;  ed.  Bergstrom,  i,  291,  No  55. 
A  girl,  interrogated  by  her  step-mother,  says 
she  has  been  at  her  aunt’s,  and  has  eaten  two 
wee  striped  fishes.  The  bones  she  gave  the 
dog ;  the  stanza  which  should  describe  the 
effect  is  wanting.  She  wishes  heaven  for  her 
father  and  mother,  a  ship  for  her  brother,  a 
jewel-box  and  chests  for  her  sister,  and  hell 
for  her  step-mother  and  her  nurse.  B,  Ar- 
widsson,  n,  90,  No  88,  nine  five-line  stanzas, 
two  lines  burden.  In  the  first  stanza,  evidently 
corrupt,  the  girl  says  she  has  been  at  her  broth¬ 
er’s.  She  has  had  eels  cooked  with  pepper, 
and  the  bones,  given  to  the  dogs,  made  them 
burst.  She  gives  her  father  good  corn  in  his 
barns,  her  brother  and  sister  a  ship,  etc.,  hell 
to  her  step-mother  and  nurse. 

Danish.  Communicated  by  Prof.  Grundt- 


vig,  as  obtained  for  the  first  time  from  tra¬ 
dition  in  1877  ;  five  stanzas  of  five  lines,  three 
lines  repeating.  Elselille,  in  answer  to  her 
mother,  says  she  has  been  in  the  meadow, 
where  she  got  twelve  small  snakes.  She  wishes 
heavenly  joy  to  her  father,  a  grave  to  her 
brother,  hell  torment  to  her  sister. 

Magyar.  4  Der  vergiftete  Knabe,’  Aigner, 
Ungarische  Volksdichtungen,  2e  Auflage,  p. 
127,  in  nine  six-line  stanzas,  four  being  a  bur¬ 
den.  Johnnie,  in  answer  to  his  mother,  says 
he  has  been  at  his  sister-in-law’s,  and  has  eaten 
a  speckled  toad,  served  on  her  handsomest 
plate,  of  which  he  is  dying.  He  bequeaths 
to  his  father  his  best  carriage,  to  his  brothers 
his  finest  horses,  to  his  sister  his  house  fur¬ 
niture,  to  his  sister-in-law  everlasting  damna¬ 
tion,  to  his  mother  pain  and  sorrow. 

Wendish.  4  Der  vergiftete  Knabe,’  Haupt 
u.  Schmaler,  I,  110,  No  77,  twelve  four-line 
stanzas,  combining  question  and  answer,  the 
first  and  last  line  repeating.  Henry  has  been 
at  the  neighbor’s,  has  eaten  part  of  a  fish 
caught  in  the  stable  with  a  dung-fork ;  his 
dog  ate  the  rest,  and  burst.  There  is  no  tes¬ 
tament.  His  mother  asks  him  where  she  shall 
make  his  bed ;  he  replies,  In  the  churchyard ; 
turn  my  head  westward,  and  cover  me  with 
green  turf. 

The  numerous  forms  of  this  story  show  a 
general  agreement,  with  but  little  difference 
except  as  to  the  persons  who  are  the  object 
and  the  agent  of  the  crime.  These  are,  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  Italian  tradition,  —  which  is  250 
years  old,  while  no  other  goes  back  more  than 
a  hundred  years,  and  far  the  larger  part  have 
been  obtained  in  recent  years,  —  a  young  man 
and  his  true-love  ;  and  in  this  account  unite 
two  of  the  three  modern  Italian  versions, 
English  A-G-,  German  A,  B.  Scott  suggests 
that  the  handsome  young  sportsman  (whom  we 
find  in  English  A,  C,  D,  E,  F,  H)  may  have 
been  exchanged  for  a  little  child  poisoned  by 
a  step-mother,  to  excite  greater  interest  in  the 
nursery.  This  seems  very  reasonable.  What 
girl  with  a  lover,  singing  the  ballad,  would 
not  be  tempted  to  put  off  the  treacherous  act 
on  so  popular,  though  most  unjustly  popular, 
an  object  of  aversion  ?  A  mother,  again, 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


155 


would  scarcely  allow  “  mother  ”  to  stand,  as 
is  the  case  in  Italian  C„and  (Srerman  F,  and  a 
singer  who  considered  that  all  blood  relations 
should  be  treated  as  sacred  would  ascribe  the 
wickedness  to  somebody  beyond  that  pale,  say 
a  neighbor,  as  the  Wen  dish  ballad  does,  and 
Zuccalmaglio’s  reading  of  German  C.  The 
step-mother  is  expressly  named  only  in  Eng¬ 
lish  J,  K  c,  L,  M,  N,  O,  and  in  four  of  these, 
J,  K  c,  M,  O,  the  child  has  a  mammie,*  which 
certainly  proves  an  alibi  for  the  step-mother, 
and  confirms  what  Scott  says.  There  is  a 
step-aunt  in  German  E  and  Swedish  A,  and 
the  aunt  in  German  D  and  the  Dutch  ballad, 
and  the  grandmother  in  English  I,  K  a,  b, 
German  C,  are  perhaps  meant  (as  the  brother 
in  Swedish  B  certainly  is)  to  be  step-relations 
and  accommodating  instruments. 

The  poisoning  is  shifted  to  a  wife  in  English 
H,  to  an  uncle  in  English  I  d,  and  to  a  sister- 
in-law  in  the  Magyar  version. 

There  is  all  but  universal  consent  that  the 
poisoning  was  done  by  serving  up  snakes  for 
fish.  The  Magyar  says  a  toad,  English  M  a 
four-footed  fisb,f  German  D  a  well-peppered 
broth  and  a  glass  of  red  wine.  English  L 
adds  a  drink  of  hemlock  stocks  to  the  speckled 
trout;  F,  H  have  simply  poison.  The  fish 
are  distinctively  eels  in  the  Italian  versions, 
and  in  English  A,  D,  E,  G,  I,  Swedish  B. 
English  A,  J,  K,  M,  N,  O,  German  A-D,  the 
Italian,  Swedish,  Dutch,  Wendish  versions, 
and  by  implication  English  C,  D,  E  also,  con¬ 
cur  in  saying  that  a  part  of  the  fish  was  given 
to  a  dog  [dogs,  cat,  cats],  and  that  death  was 
the  consequence.  Bursting  or  swelling  is  char¬ 
acteristic  of  this  kind  of  poisoning :  German 
A,  B,  C,  F,  English  D,  E,  and  the  Dutch  and 
Wendish  versions. 

I  he  dying  youth  or  child  in  many  cases 
makes  a  nuncupative  will,  or  declares  his  last 
wishes,  upon  a  suggestion  proceeding  from  the 
person  who  is  by  him,  commonly  from  the 
mother :  English  A,  B,  C,  H,  I :  German  A, 

*  Grundtvig  notices  this  absurdity,  Eng.  og  skotske 
F.  v,  p.  286,  note  **. 

t  “  The  nurse  or  nursery  maid  who  sung  these  verses  (to 
a  very  plaintive  air)  always  informed  the  juvenile  audience 


D,  E,  F:  the  Italian,  Dutch,  Swedish,  Danish, 
Magyar  versions.  The  bequest  to  the  poisoner 
is  the  gallows  in  English  B,  C,  H,  I,  Italian 
A,  B,  C  ;  hell,  English  A,  German  A,  D,  F, 
Swedish  A,  B,  Danish ;  and  an  equivalent  in 
German  E,  the  Dutch  and  the  Magyar  copy. 
‘  The  Cruel  Brother,’  No  11,  and  ‘  Edward,’ 
No  13,  have  a  will  of  this  same  fashion. 

Mn  all  the  English  versions  the  burden  has 
the  entreaty  “  Make  my  bed,”  and  this  is  ad¬ 
dressed  to  the  mother  in  all  but  L,  N.  In  H, 
an  Irish  copy,  and  I,  an  American  one,  the 
mother  asks  where  the  bed  shall  be  made; 
and  the  answer  is,  In  the  churchyard.  This 
feature  is  found  again  in  German  B,  C  and  in 
the  Wendish  version. 

>The  resemblance  in  the  form  of  the  stanza 
in  all  the  versions  deserves  a  word  of  remark. 
For  the  most  part,  the  narrative  proceeds  in 
sections  of  two  short  lines,  or  rather  half  lines, 
which  are  a  question  and  an  answer,  the  rest 
of  the  stanza  being  regularly  repeated.  Eng¬ 
lish  L,  N,  as  written  (L  not  always),  separate 
the  question  and  answer  ;  this  is  done,  too,  in 
Italian  B,  C.  German  E,  on  the  contrary,  has 
two  questions  and  the  answers  in  each  stanza, 
and  is  altogether  peculiar.  Swedish  B  varies 
the  burden  in  part,  imagining  father,  brother, 
sister,  etc.,  to  ask  what  the  little  girl  will 
give  to  each,  and  adapting  the  reply  accord¬ 
ingly,  “  Faderen  min,”  “  Broderen  min.” 

A  Bohemian  and  a  Catalan  ballad  which 
have  two  of  the  three  principal  traits  of  the 
foregoing,  the  poisoning  and  the  testament,  do 
not  exhibit,  perhaps  have  lost,  the  third,  the 
employment  of  snakes. 

The  story  of  the  first  is  that  a  mother  who 
dislikes  the  wife  her  son  has  chosen  attempts 
to  poison  her  at  the  wedding  feast.  She  sets 
a  glass  of  honey  before  the  son,  a  glass  of 
poison  before  the  bride.  They  exchange 
cups.  The  poison  is  swift.  The  young  man 
leaves  four  horses  to  his  brother,  eight  cows  to 
his  sister,  his  fine  house  to  his  wife.  “  And 

that  the  step-mother  was  a  rank  witch,  and  that  the  fish  was 
an  ask  (newt),  which  was  in  Scotland  formerly  deemed  a 
most  poisonous  reptile.”  C.  K.  Sharpe,  in  the  Musical  Mu¬ 
seum,  Laing-Stenhouse,  iv,  364*. 


156 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


what  to  me,  my  son  ?  ”  asks  the  mother.  A 
broad  mill-stone  and  the  deep  Moldan  is  the 
bequest  to  her.  Waldau,  Bohmische  Granaten, 
n,  109,  cited  by  Reifferscheid,  p.  137  f. 

The  Catalan  ballad  seems  to  have  been  sof¬ 
tened  at  the  end.  Here  again  a  mother  hates 
her  daughter-in-law.  She  comes  to  the  sick 
woman,  “  com  qui  no  ’n  sabes  res,”  and  asks 
What  is  the  matter?  The  daughter  says,' You 
have  poisoned  me.  The  mother  exhorts  her 
to  confess  and  receive  the  sacrament,  and  then 
make  her  will.  She  gives  her  castles  in  France 
to  the  poor  and  the  pilgrims  [and  the  friars] , 
and  to  her  brother  Don  Carlos  [who  in  one 
version  is  her  husband].  Two  of  the  versions 
remember  the  Virgin.  “  And  to  me  ?  ”  “  To 
you,  my  husband  [my  cloak,  rosary],  that 
when  you  go  to  mass  you  may  remember  me.” 
In  one  version  the  mother  asks  the  dying 
woman  where  she  will  be  buried.  She  says  At 
Saint  Mary’s.  Mila,  Observaciones,  p.  103  f, 
No  5,  two  versions:  Briz  y  Salto,  n,  197  f, 
two  also,  the  first  nearly  the  same  as  Mila’s 
first. 

Poisoning  by  giving  a  snake  as  food,  or  by 
infusing  the  venom  in  drink,  is  an  incident  in 
several  other  popular  ballads. 

Donna  Lombarda  attempts,  at  the  instiga¬ 
tion  of  a  lover,  to  rid  herself  of  her  husband 
by  pounding  a  serpent,  or  its  head,  in  a  mor¬ 
tar,  and  mixing  the  juice  with  his  wine  [in 
one  version  simply  killing  the  snake  and  put¬ 
ting  it  in  a  cask]  :  Nigra,  Canzoni  del  Pie- 
monti,  in  Rivista  Contemporanea,  xn,  32  ff, 
four  versions  ;  Marcoaldi,  p.  177,  No  20;  Wolf, 
Volkslieder  aus  Venetien,  p.  46,  No  72  ;  Righi, 
Canti  popolari  veronesi,  p.  37,  No  100* ;  Fer¬ 
raro,  C.  p.  monferrini,  p.  1,  No  1 ;  Bernoni,  C. 
p.  veneziani,  Puntata  Y,  No  1.  In  three  of  Ni- 
gra’s  versions  and  in  Ferraro’s  the  drink  is  of¬ 
fered  when  the  husband  returns  from  hunting. 
The  husband,  rendered  suspicious  by  the  look 
of  the  wine,  or  warned  of  his  danger,  forces 
his  wife  to  drink  first.  So  in  a  northern  bal¬ 
lad,  a  mother  who  attempts  to  destroy  her  sons 
[step-sons]  with  a  brewage  of  this  descrip¬ 
tion  is  obliged  to  drink  first,  and  bursts  with 
the  poison:  4 Eiturbyrlunar  kvseSi,’  Islenzk 


Fornkv.,  n,  79,  No  43  A  ;  ‘  Fru  Gundela,’ 
Arwidsson,  n,  92,  No  89  ;  ‘  Signelill  aa  hennes 
synir,’  Bugge,  p.  95,  No  XX,  the  last  half. 

In  one  of  the  commonest  Slavic  ballads,  a 
girl,  who  finds  her  brother  an  obstacle  to  her 
desires,  poisons  him,  at  the  instigation  and 
under  the  instruction  of  the  man  she  fancies, 
or  of  her  own  motion,  by  giving  him  a  snake 
to  eat,  or  the  virus  in  drink.  The  object  of 
her  passion,  on  being  informed  of  what  she  has 
done,  casts  her  off,  for  fear  of  her  doing  the  like 
to  him.  Bohemian :  ‘  Sestra  travicka,’  Erben, 
P.  n.  w  Cecil &ch,  1842,  i,  9,  No  2,  Prostond- 
rodni  cesk6  P.,  1864,  p.  477,  No  13  ;  Swoboda, 
Sblrka  c.  n.  P.,  p.  19 ;  German  translations  by 
Swoboda,  by  Wenzig,  W.  s.  Marchenschatz,  . 
p.  263,  I.  v.  Diiringsfeld,  Bohmische  Rosen,  p. 
176,  etc.  Moravian  :  Susil,  p.  167,  No  168. 
Slovak,  Celakowsky,  Slowanske  n.  P.,  ill, 
76.  Polish:  Kolberg,  P.  L.  p.,  I,  115,  No  8, 
some  twenty  versions;  Wojcicki,  P.  L.  bialo- 
chrobatow,  etc.,  I,  71,  73,  232,  289  ;  Pauli,  P. 
L.  polskiego,  p.  81,  82 :  Konopka,  P.  L.  kra- 
kowskiego,  p.  125.  Servian:  Vuk,  I,  215, 
No  302,  translated  by  Talvj,  n,  192,  and  by 
Kapper,  Gesiiiige  der  Serben,  n,  177.  Rus¬ 
sian  :  Celakowsky,  as  above,  ill,  108.  Etc. 
The  attempt  is  made,  but  unsuccessfully,  in 
Sacharof,  P.  russkago  N.,  IV,  7. 

A  version  given  by  De  Rada,  Rapsodied’un 
poema  albanese,  p.  78,  canto  x,  resembles  the 
Slavic,  with  a  touch  of  the  Italian.  A  man 
incites  a  £irl  to  poison  her  brother  by  pound¬ 
ing  the  poison  out  of  a  serpent’s  head  and 
tail  and  mixing  it  with  wine. 

In  a  widely  spread  Romaic  ballad,  a  mother 
poisons  the  bride  whom  her  son  has  just 
brought  home,  —  an  orphan  girl  in  some  ver¬ 
sions,  but  in  one  a  king’s  daughter  wedding  a 
king’s  son.  The  cooks  who  are  preparing  the 
feast  are  made  to  cook  for  the  bride  the  heads 
of  three  snakes  [nine  snakes’  heads,  a  three¬ 
headed  snake,  winged  snakes  and  two-headed 
adders] .  In  two  Epirote  versions  the  poisoned 
girl  bursts  with  the  effects.  “  Tot  /ca/ca  Tre6epiKa,” 
Passow,  p.  335,  No  456,  nearly  =  Zambelios, 
p.  753,  No  41 ;  Passow,  p.  337,  No  457 ;  Tom- 
maseo,  Canti  popolari,  m,  135 ;  Jeannaraki, 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


157 


p.  127,  No  130  *  ;  Cliasiotis  (Epirote),  p.  51, 

No  40,  “  'H  fSovpyapoirovXa  Kai  rj  KaKrj  irfOfpd  ; 

p.  103,  No  22,  “  'O  Aiorvs  Kai  t)  Ka/07  irf.6f.pd." 
(Liebrecht,  Volkskunde,  p.  214.) 

An  Italian  mother-in-law  undertakes  to  poi¬ 
son  her  son’s  wife  with  a  snake-potion.  The 
wife,  on  her  husband’s  return  from  the  chase, 
innocently  proposes  to  share  the  drink  with 
him.  Her  husband  no  sooner  has  tasted  than 
he  falls  dead.  (Ivaden,  Italien’s  Wunderhorn, 
p.  85). 

Scott  cites  in  his  preface  to  ‘  Lord  Randal  ’ 
a  passage  from  a  MS.  chronicle  of  England, 
in  which  the  death  of  King  John  is  described 
as  being  brought  about  by  administering  to 
him  the  venom  of  a  toad  (cf.  the  Magyar 
ballad).  The  symptoms  —  swelling  and  rup¬ 
ture —  are  found  in  the  Scandinavian  and 
Epirote  ballads  referred  to  above,  besides  those 
previously  noticed  (p.  155).  King  John  had 
asked  a  monk  at  the  abbey  of  Swinshed  how 
much  a  loaf  on  the  table  was  worth.  The 
monk  answered  a  half-penny.  The  king  said 
that  if  he  could  bring  it  about,  such  a  loaf 
should  be  worth  twenty  pence  ere  half  a  year. 
The  monk  thought  he  would  rather  die  than 
that  this  should  come  to  pass.  “  And  anon 
the  monk  went  unto  his  abbot  and  was  shrived 
of  him,  and  told  the  abbot  all  that  the  king 
said,  and  prayed  his  abbot  to  assoil  him,  for 
he  would  give  the  king  such  a  wassail  that  all 
England  should  be  glad  and  joyful  thereof. 
Then  went  the  monk  into  a  garden,  and  found 
a  toad  therein,  and  took  her  up,  and  put  her 
in  a  cup,  and  filled  it  with  good  ale,  and 


pricked  her  in  every  place,  in  the  cup,  till  the 
venom  came  out  in  every  place,  and  brought 
it  before  the  king,  and  kneeled,  and  said  : 
‘  Sir,  wassail :  for  never  in  your  life  drank  ye 
of  such  a  cup.’  ‘  Begin,  monk,’  said  the  king : 
and  the  monk  drank  a  great  draught,  and  took 
the  king  the  cup,  and  the  king  also  drank  a 
great  draught,  and  set  down  the  cup.  The 
monk  anon  went  to  the  firmary,  and  there 
died  anon,  on  whose  soul  God  have  mercy, 
amen.  And  five  monks  sing  for  his  soul  es¬ 
pecially,  and  shall  while  the  abbey  standeth. 
The  king  was  anon  full  evil  at  ease,  and  com¬ 
manded  to  remove  the  table,  and  asked  after 
the  monk  ;  and  men  told  him  that  he  was 
dead,  for  his  womb  was  broke  in  sunder. 
When  the  king  heard  this  tiding,  he  com¬ 
manded  for  to  truss  :  but  all  it  was  for  nought, 
for  his  belly  began  to  swell  from  the  drink 
that  he  drank,  that  he  died  within  two  days, 
the  morrow  after  Saint  Luke’s  day.”  Min¬ 
strelsy,  hi,  287  f.  The  same  story  in  Eulo- 
gium  Historiarum,  ed.  Haydon,  in,  109  f. 

B  and  K  c  are  translated  by  Grundtvig, 
Engelske  og  skotske  Folkeviser,  p.  284,  286. 
D,  by  W.  Grimm,  3  Altscliottische  Lieder,  p. 
3  ;  by  Schubart,  p.  177  ;  Arndt,  p.  229  ;  Doen- 
niges,  p.  79;  Gerhardt,  p.  83  ;  Knortz,  L.  u. 
R.  Alt-Englands,  p.  174.  K  a  by  Fiedler, 
Geschichte  der  volksthumlichen  schottischen 
Liederdichtung,  II,  268.  German  C  is  trans¬ 
lated  by  Jamieson,  Illustrations,  p.  320  :  Swed¬ 
ish  A  by  W.  and  M.  Howitt,  Literature  and 
Romance  of  Northern  Europe,  I,  265. 


♦ 


A 

From  a  small  manuscript  volume  lent  me  by  Mr  William 
Macmath,  of  Edinburgh,  containing  four  pieces  written  in  or 
about  1710,  and  this  ballad  in  a  later  hand.  Charles  Mackie, 
August,  1808,  is  scratched  upon  the  binding. 

1  ‘  O  where  lia  you  been,  Lord  Randal,  my 
son  ? 

And  where  ha  you  been,  my  handsome  young 
man  ?  ’ 

*  A  golden  bird,  sitting  on  the  bride’s  hand,  sings,  “  You 
had  better  not  go  there  ;  you  will  have  a  bad  mother-in-law 


‘  I  ha  been  at  the  greenwood  ;  mother,  mak  niy 
bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  wearied  wi  hunting,  and  fain  wad  lie 
down.’ 

'  2  ‘  An  wha  met  ye  there,  Lord  Randal,  my 
son  ? 

An  wha  met  you  there,  my  handsome  young 
man  ?  ’ 

and  a  bad  father-in-law.”  There  are  ill  omens  also  in  Pas- 
sow,  No  457. 


158 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


‘  O  I  met  wi  my  true-love ;  mother,  mak  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  wearied  wi  huntin,  an  fain  wad  lie 
down.’ 

3  1  And  wliat  did  she  give  you,  Lord  Randal,  my 

son? 

And  what  did  she  give  you,  my  handsome 
young  man  ?  ’ 

‘  Eels  fried  in  a  pan ;  mother,  mak  my  bed 
soon, 

For  I ’m  wearied  wi  huntin,  and  fain  wad  lie 
down.’ 

4  1  And  wha  gat  your  leavins,  Lord  Randal,  my 

son  ? 

And  wha  gat  your  leavins,  my  handsom  young 
man  ?’ 

‘  My  hawks  and  my  hounds ;  mother,  mak  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  wearied  wi  hunting,  and  fain  wad  lie 
down.’ 

5  1  And  what  becam  of  them,  Lord  Randal,  my 

son  ? 

And  what  becam  of  them,  my  handsome  young 
man  ?  ’ 

1  They  stretched  their  legs  out  an  died  ;  mother, 
mak  my  bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  wearied  wi  huntin,  and  fain  wad  lie 
down.’ 

6  ‘  0  I  fear  you  are  poisoned,  Lord  Randal,  my 

son ! 

I  fear  you  are  poisoned,  my  handsome  young 
man  !  ’  • 

‘  0  yes,  I  am  poisoned  ;  mother,  mak  my  bed 
soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wad  lie 
down.’ 


7  1  What  d’  ye  leave  to  your  mother,  Lord  Ran¬ 

dal,  my  son  ? 

What  d’  ye  leave  to  your  mother,  my  handsome 
young  man  ?  ’ 

1  Four  and  twenty  milk  kye  ;  mother,  mak  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wad  lie 
down.’ 

8  ‘  What  d’  ye  leave  to  your  sister,  Lord  Ran¬ 

dal,  my  son? 

What  d’  ye  leave  to  your  sister,  my  handsome 
young  man  ?  ’ 

‘  My  gold  and  my  silver  ;  mother,  mak  my  bed 
soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  an  I  fain  wad  lie 
down.’ 

9  ‘  What  d’  ye  leave  to  your  brother,  Lord  Ran¬ 

dal,  my  son  ? 

What  d’  ye  leave  to  your  brother,  my  hand¬ 
some  young  man  ?  ’ 

‘  My  houses  and  my  lands  ;  mother,  mak  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wad  lie 
down.’ 

10  ‘  What  d’  ye  leave  to  your  true-love,  Lord  Ran¬ 
dal,  my  son  ? 

What  d’  ye  leave  to  your  true-love,  my  hand¬ 
some  young  man  ?  ’ 

‘  I  leave  her  hell  and  fire  ;  mother,  mak  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I  ^n  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wad  lie 
down.’ 


*■  - ► 

B 

Kinloch’s  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  110.  From  Mrs 
Comie,  Aberdeen. 

1  ‘  0  whare  hae  ye  been  a’  day,  Lord  Donald, 
my  son  ? 

O  whare  hae  ye  been  a’  day,  my  jollie  young 
man  ?  ’ 


‘  I ’ve  been  awa  courtin ;  mither,  mak  my  bed 
sune, 

For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wad  lie 
doun.’ 

2  ‘  What  wad  ye  hae  for  your  supper,  Lord  Don¬ 
ald,  my  son  ? 

What  wad  ye  hae  for  your  supper,  my  jollie 
young  man  ?  ’ 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


159 


‘  I ’ve  gotten  my  supper  ;  mither,  niak  my 
bed  sune,  * 

For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wad  lie 
doun.’ 

3  ‘  What  did  ye  get  for  your  supper,  Lord  Don¬ 

ald,  my  son  ? 

What  did  ye  get  for  your  supper,  my  jollie 
young  man  ?  ’ 

‘  A  dish  of  sma  fishes ;  mither  mak  my  bed 
sune, 

For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wad  lie 
doun.’ 

4  ‘  Whare  gat  ye  the  fishes,  Lord  Donald,  my 

son  ? 

Whare  gat  ye  the  fishes,  my  jollie  young 
man  ?  ’ 

‘  In  my  father’s  black  ditches  ;  mither,  mak 
my  bed  sune, 

For  I  ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wad  lie 
doun.’ 

5  ‘  "What  like  were  your  fishes,  Lord  Donald,  my 

son  ? 

What  like  were  your  fishes,  my  jollie  young 
man  ?  ’ 

1  Black  hacks  and  spreckld  bellies ;  mither, 
mak  my  bed  sune, 

For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wad  lie 
doun.’ 

6  ‘  0  I  fear  ye  are  poisond,  Lord  Donald,  my 

t 

son ! 

O  I  fear  ye  are  poisond,  my  jollie  young 
man !  ’ 

‘  0  yes !  I  am  poisond  ;  mither  mak  my  bed 
sune, 

For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wad  lie 
doun.’ 


c 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  69.  From  the  recitation  of  Marga¬ 
ret  Bain,  in  the  parish  of  Blackford,  Perthshire. 

1  ‘  W hat ’s  become  of  your  hounds,  King  Hen- 
rie,  my  son  ? 

What ’s  become  of  your  hounds,  my  pretty  lit¬ 
tle  one  ?  * 


7  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  father,  Lord  Don¬ 

ald  my  son  ? 

What  will  ye  leave  to  your  father,  my  jollie 
young  man  ?  ’ 

‘  Baith  my  houses  and  land ;  mither,  mak  my 
bed  sune, 

For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wad  lie 
doun.’ 

8  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  brither,  Lord 

Donald,  my  son  ? 

What  will  ye  leave  to  your  brither,  my  jollie 
young  man  ?  ’ 

‘  My  horse  and  the  saddle  ;  mither,  mak  my 
bed  sune, 

For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wad  he 
doun.’ 

9  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  sister,  Lord 

Donald,  my  son? 

What  will  ye  leave  to  your  sister,  my  johie 
young  man  ?  ’ 

i  Baith  my  gold  box  and  rings ;  mither,  mak 
my  bed  sune, 

For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wad  lie 
doun.’ 

10  ‘  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  true-love,  Lord 
Donald,  my  son  ? 

What  will  ye  leave  to  your  true-love,  my  jollie 
young  man  ?  ’ 

‘  The  tow  and  the  halter,  for  to  hang  on  yon 
tree, 

And  lat  her  hang  there  for  the  poysoning  o 
me.’ 


‘  They  all  died  on  the  way ;  mother,  make  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  to  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wald  lie 
down.’ 

2  ‘  What  gat  ye  to  your  supper,  King  Henry,  my 
son  ? 

What  gat  ye  to  your  supper,  my  pretty  little 
one  ?  ’ 


160 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


‘  I  gat  fish  boiled  in  broo  ;  mother,  mak  my  bed 
soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  to  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wald  lie 
down.’ 

3  ‘  What  like  were  the  fish,  King  Henry,  my 

son  ? 

What  like  were  the  fish,  my  pretty  little  one  ?  ’ 
‘  They  were  spreckled  on  the  back  and  white 
on  the  belly  ;  mother,  make  my  bed  soon, 
For  I’m  sick  to  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wald  lie 
down.’ 

4  ‘  What  leave  ye  to  your  father,  King  Henry, 

my  son  ? 

What  leave  ye  to  your  father,  my  pretty  little 
one  ?  ’ 

‘  The  keys  of  Old  Ireland,  and  all  that ’s  there¬ 
in  ;  mother,  make  my  bed  soon, 

For  I’m  sick  to  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wald  lie 
down.’ 

5  ‘  What  leave  ye  to  your  brother,  King  Henry, 

my  son  ? 

What  leave  ye  to  your  brother,  my  pretty  little 
one  ?  ’ 


D 

Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  1803,  in,  292. 

1  ‘  0  where  hae  ye  been,  Lord  Randal,  my 

son? 

O  where  hae  ye  been,  my  handsome  young 
man  ?  ’ 

‘  I  hae  been  to  the  wild  wood ;  mother,  make 
my  bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  weary  wi  hunting,  and  fain  wald  lie 
down.’ 

2  ‘  Where  gat  ye  your  dinner,  Lord  Randal,  my 

son? 

Where  gat  ye  your  dinner,  my  handsome  young 
man  ?  ’ 

‘  I  din’d  wi  my  true-love ;  mother,  make  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  weary  wi  hunting,  and  fain  wald  lie 
down.’ 

3  ‘  What  gat  ye  to  your  dinner,  Lord  Randal,  my 

son? 

What  gat  ye  to  your  dinner,  my  handsome 
young  man  ?  ’ 


1  The  keys  of  my  coffers  and  all  that ’s  therein  ; 

mother,  mak  my  bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  to  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wald  lie 
down.’ 

6  ‘  What  leave  ye  to  your  sister,  King  Henry, 

my  son  ? 

What  leave  ye  to  your  sister,  my  pretty  little 
one  ?  ’ 

‘  The  world ’s  wide,  she  may  go  beg ;  mother, 
mak  my  bed  soon, 

For  I  ’m  sick  to  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wald  lie 
down.’ 

7  ‘  What  leave  ye  to  your  trew-love,  King  Henry, 

my  son  ? 

What  leave  ye  to  your  trew-love,  my  pretty 
little  one  ?  ’ 

‘  The  highest  hill  to  hang  her  on,  for  she ’s  poi¬ 
soned  me  and  my  hounds  all ;  mother, 
make  my  bed  soon, 

Oh  I ’m  sick  to  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wald  lie 
down.’ 


‘  I  gat  eels  boild  in  broo ;  mother,  make  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I’m  weary  wi  hunting,  and  fain  wald  lie 
down.’ 

4  ‘  What  became  of  your  bloodhounds,  Lord  Ran¬ 

dal,  my  son  ? 

What  became  of  your  bloodhounds,  my  hand¬ 
some  young  man ? ’ 

‘  O  they  swelld  and  they  died  ;  mother,  make 
my  bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  weary  wi  hunting,  and  fain  wald  lie 
down.’ 

5  ‘  O  I  fear  ye  are  poisond,  Lord  Randal,  my 

son ! 

O  I  fear  ye  are  poisond,  my  handsome  young 
man !  ’ 

‘  0  yes  !  I  am  poisond  ;  mother,  make  my  bed 
soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  fain  wald  lie 
down.’ 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


161 


E 

Halliwell’s  Popular  Rhymes  and  Nursery  Tales,  p.  261. 
“  A  version  still  popular  in  Scotland,”  1849. 

1  ‘  Ah  where  have  you  been,  Lairde  Rowlande, 

my  son  ? 

Ah  where  have  you  been,  Lairde  Rowlande, 
my  son  ?  ’ 

‘  I ’ve  been  in  the  wild  woods  ;  mither,  mak  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  weary  wi  hunting,  and  faine  would  lie 
down.’ 

2  ‘  Oh  you ’ve  been  at  your  true  love’s,  Lairde 

Rowlande,  my  son ! 

Oh  you ’ve  been  at  your  true-love’s,  Lairde 
Rowlande,  my  son  !  ’ 

‘  I ’ve  been  at  my  true-love’s  ;  mither,  mak  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  weary  wi  hunting,  and  faine  would  lie 
down.’ 

3  ‘  What  got  you  to  dinner,  Lairde  Rowlande,  my 

son  ? 

What  got  you  to  dinner,  Lairde  Rowlande,  my 


‘  I  got  eels  boild  in  brue  ;  mither,  mak  my  bed 
soon, 

For  I  ’m  weary  wi  hunting,  and  faine  would 
lie  down.’ 

4  ‘  What ’s  become  of  your  warden,  Lairde  Row¬ 

lande,  my  son  ?  * 

What ’s  become  of  your  warden,  Lairde  Row¬ 
lande,  my  son  ?  ’ 

‘  He  died  in  the  muirlands  ;  mither,  mak  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  weary  wi  hunting,  and  faine  would 
lie  down.’ 

5  ‘  What ’s  become  of  your  stag-hounds,  Lairde 

Rowlande,  my  son  ? 

What ’s  become  of  your  stag-hounds,  Lairde 
Rowlande,  my  son  ?  ’ 

‘  They  swelled  and  they  died  ;  mither,  mak  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I’m  weary  wi  hunting,  and  faine  would  lie 
down.’ 


F 

Johnson’s  Museum,  No  327,  p.  337.  Communicated  by 
Burns. 

1  ‘  0  where  hae  ye  been,  Lord  Ronald,  my 
son  ? 

O  where  hae  ye  been,  Lord  Ronald,  my  son  ?  ’ 

‘  I  hae  been  wi  my  sweetheart ;  mother,  make 
my  bed  soon, 

For  I’m  weary  wi  the  hunting,  and  fain  wad 
lie  down.’ 


G 

Illustrations  of  Northern  Antiquities,  p.  319.  Originally 
from  a  clergyman’s  daughter,  in  Suffolk. 

1  ‘  Where  have  you  been  today,  Billy,  my  son  ? 
IV  here  have  you  been  today,  my  only  man  ?  ’ 

‘  I ’ve  been  a  wooing ;  mother,  make  my  bed 
soon, 

For  I  ’m  sick  at  heart,  and  fain  would  lay 
down.’ 


2  ‘  What  got  ye  frae  your  sweetheart,  Lord  Ron¬ 
ald,  my  son  ? 

What  got  ye  frae  your  sweetheart,  Lord  Ron¬ 
ald,  my  son  ?  ’ 

‘  I  hae  got  deadly  poison ;  mother,  make  my 
bed  soon, 

For  life  is  a  burden  that  soon  I  ’ll -lay  down.’ 

*  #  *  *  * 


2  1  What  have  you  ate  today,  Billy,  my  son  ? 
What  have  you  ate  today,  my  only  man  ?  ’ 

‘  I ’ve  ate  eel-pie ;  mother,  make  my  bed 
soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  at  heart,  and  shall  die  before 
noon.’ 


21 


162 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


H 

Taken  down  by  me,  February,  1881,  from  the  recitation  of 
Ellen  Healy,  as  repeated  to  her  by  a  young  girl  at  “  Lacka- 
bairn,”  Kerry,  Ireland,  about  1868. 

1  ‘Where  was  you  all  day,  my  own  pretty  boy  ? 
Wlfere  was  you  all  day,  my  comfort  and  joy  ?  ’ 

‘  I  was  fishing  and  fowling  ;  mother,  make  my 

bed  soon, 

There ’s  a  pain  in  my  heart,  and  I  mean  to  lie 
down.’ 

2  ‘  What  did  you  have  for  your  breakfast,  my 

own  pretty  boy  ? 

What  did  you  have  for  your  breakfast,  my  com¬ 
fort  and  joy  ?  ’ 

‘  A  cup  of  strong  poison ;  mother,  make  my 
bed  soon, 

There ’s  a  pain  in  my  heart,  and  I  mean  to  lie 
down.’ 

3  ‘  I  fear  you  are  poisoned,  my  own  pretty  boy, 

I  fear  you  are  poisoned,  my  comfort  and  joy !  ’ 

‘  O  yes,  I  am  poisoned  ;  mother,  make  my  bed 

soon, 

There ’s  a  pain  in  my  heart,  and  I  mean  to  lie 
down.’  / 

4  ‘  What  will  you  leave  to  your  father,  my  own 

pretty  boy  ? 

What  will  you  leave  to  your  father,  my  com¬ 
fort  and  joy  ?  ’ 

‘  I  ’ll  leave  him  my  house  and  my  property ; 

mother,  make  my  bed  soon, 

There ’s  a  pain  in  my  heart,  and  I  mean  to  lie 
down.’ 

5  ‘  What  will  you  leave  to  your  mother,  my  own 

pretty  boy  ? 

What  will  you  leave  to  your  mother,  my  com¬ 
fort  and  joy  ?  ’ 

‘  I  ’ll  leave  her  my  coach  and  four  horses  ; 

mother,  make  my  bed  soon, 

There ’s  a  pain  in  my  heart,  and  I  mean  to  lie 
down.’ 

6  ‘  What  will  you  leave  to  your  brother,  my  own 

pretty  boy  ? 

What  will  you  leave  to  your  brother,  my  com¬ 
fort  and  joy  ?  ’ 


‘  I  ’ll  leave  him  my  bow  and  my  fiddle  ; 

mother,  make  my  bed  soon, 

There ’s  a  pain  in  my  heart,  and  I  mean  to  lie 
down.’ 

7  ‘  What  will  you  leave  to  your  sister,  my  own 

pretty  boy  ? 

What  will  you  leave  to  your  sister,  my  comfort 
and  joy  ?  ’ 

‘  I  ’ll  leave  her  my  gold  and  my  silver ; 

mother,  make  my  bed  soon, 

There ’s  a  pain  in  my  heart,  and  I  mean  to  lie 
down.’ 

8  ‘  What  will  you  leave  to  your  servant,  my  own 

pretty  boy  ? 

What  will  you  leave  to  your  servant,  my  com¬ 
fort  and  joy  ?  ’ 

‘  I  ’ll  leave  him  the  key  of  my  small  silver  box  ; 

mother,  make  my  bed  soon, 

There ’s  a  pain  in  my  heart,  and  I  mean  to  lie 
down.’ 

9  ‘  What  will  you  leave  to  your  children,  my  own 

pretty  boy? 

.  What  will  you  leave  to  your  children,  my  com¬ 
fort  and  joy  ?  ’ 

‘  The  world  is  wide  all  round  for  to  beg ; 

mother,  make  my  bed  soon, 

There ’s  a  pain  in  my  heart,  and  I  mean  to  lie 
down.’ 

10  ‘  What  will  you  'leave  to  your  wife,  my  own 

pretty  boy  ? 

What  will  you  leave  to  your  wife,  my  comfort 
and  joy  ?  ’ 

‘  I  ’ll  leave  her  the  gallows,  and  plenty  to  hang 
her  ;  mother,  make  my  bed  soon, 

There ’s  a  pain  in  my  heart,  and  I  mean  to  lie 
down.’ 

11  ‘  Where  shall  I  make  it,  my  own  pretty  boy  ? 
Where  shall  I  make  it,  my  comfort  and  joy  ?  ’ 

‘  Above  in  the  churchyard,  and  dig  it  down 
deep, 

Put  a  stone  to  my  head  and  a  ‘flag  to  my 
feet, 

And  leave  me  down  easy  until  I  ’ll  take  a  long 
sleep.’ 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


163 


I 

•  a.  Communicated  by  Mrs  L.  F.  Wesselhoeft,  of  Boston, 
as  sung  to  her  when  a  child  by  her  grandmother,  Elizabeth 
Foster,  born  in  Maine,  who  appears  to  have  learned  the  bal¬ 
lad  of  her  mother  about  1800.  b.  By  a  daughter  of  Eliza¬ 
beth  Foster,  as  learned  about  1820.  c.  By  Miss  Ellen  Mars* 
ton,  of  New  Bedford,  as  learned  from  her  mother,  born  1778. 
d.  By  Mrs  Cushing,  of  Cambridge,  Mass.,  as  learned  in 
1838  from  a  schoolmate,  who  is  thought  to  have  derived 
it  from  an  old  nurse,  e.  By  Mrs  Augustus  Lowell,  of  Bos¬ 
ton.  f.  By  Mrs  Edward  Atkinson,  of  Boston,  learned  of 
Mrs  A.  Lowell,  in  girlhood,  g.  By  Mrs  A.  Lowell,  as  de¬ 
rived  from  a  friend. 

1  ‘  0  where  have  you  been,  Tiranti,  my  son  ? 

0  where  have  you  been,  my  sweet  little  one  ?  ’ 

‘  I  have  been  to  my  grandmother’s  ;  mother, 
make  my  bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  to  my  heart,  and  I  ’in  faint  to  lie 
down.’ 

2  ‘  What  did  you  have  for  your  supper,  Tiranti, 

my  son  ? 

What  did  you  have  for  your  supper,  my  sweet 
little  one  ?  ’ 

‘  I  had  eels  fried  in  butter  ;  mother,  make  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I 'm  sick  to  my  heart,  and  I ’m  faint  to  lie 
down.’ 

3  ‘  Where  did  the  eels  come  from,  Tiranti,  my 

son  ? 

Where  did  the  eels  come  from,  my  sweet  little 
one  ?’ 

‘  From  the  corner  of  the  haystack  ;  mother, 
make  my  bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  to  my  heart,  and  I ’m  faint  to  lie 
down.’ 

4  ‘  What  color  were  the  eels,  Tiranti,  my  son  ? 

What  color  were  the  eels,  my  sweet  little 

one  ?  ’ 


J 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  238.  From  the  recitation  of  Miss 
Maxwell,  of  Brediland. 

1  ‘  O  whare  hae  ye  been  a’  day,  my  bonnie  wee 
croodlin  dow  ? 

O  whare  hae  ye  been  a'  day.  my  bonnie  wee 
croodlin  dow  ?  ’ 


‘  They  were  streaked  and  striped ;  mother, 
make  my  bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  to  my  heart,  and  I ’m  faint  to 
lie  down.’ 

5  ‘  What  ’ll  you  give  to  your  father,  Tiranti,  my  * 

son  ? 

What  ’ll  you  give  to  your  father,  my  sweet  lit¬ 
tle  one  ?  ’ 

‘  All  my  gold  and  my  silver  ;  mother,  make 
my  bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  to  my  heart,  and  I ’m  faint  to  lie 
down.’ 

6  ‘  What  ’ll  you  give  to  your  mother,  Tiranti,  my 

son  ? 

What  ’ll  you  give  to  your  mother,  my  sweet 
little  one  ?  ’ 

‘  A  coach  and  six  horses ;  mother,  make  my 
bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  to  my  heart,  and  I ’m  faint  to  lie 
down.’ 

7  ‘  What  ’ll  you  give  to  your  grandmother,  Ti¬ 

ranti,  my  son  ? 

What’ll  you  give  to  your  grandmother,  my 
sweet  little  one  ?  ’ 

‘  A  halter  to  hang  her ;  mother,  make  my  bed 
soon, 

For  I’m  sick  to  my  heart,  and  I ’m  faint  to  lie 
down.’ 

8  ‘  Where  ’ll  you  have  your  bed  made,  Tiranti, 

my  son  ? 

Where  ’ll  you  have  your  bed  made,  my  sweet 
little  one  ?  ’ 

‘  In  the  corner  of  the  churchyard ;  mother, 
make  my  bed  soon, 

For  I ’m  sick  to  my  heart,  and  I ’m  faint  to  lie 
down.’ 


‘  I ’ve  been  at  my  step-mother’s  ;  oh  mak  my 
bed,  mammie,  now! 

I ’ve  .  been  at  my  step-mother’s ;  oh  mak  my 
bed,  mammie,  now  !  ’ 

2  ‘  0  what  did  ye  get  at  your  step-mother’s,  my 
bonnie  wee  croodlin  dow  ?  ’  [  Twice/] 

i  I  gat  a  wee  wee  fishie  ;  oh  mak  my  bed.  mam¬ 
mie,  now  !  ’  [ Twice.~\ 


164 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


3  4  0  whare  gat  she  the  wee  fishie,  my  bonnie 

wee  croodlin  dow  ?  ’ 

4  In  a  dub  before  the  door  ;  oh  mak  my  bed, 
mammie,  now  !  ’ 

4  4  What  did  ye  wi  the  wee  fishie,  my  bonnie  wee 

croodlin  dow  ?  ’ 

4  I  boild  it  in  a  wee  pannie  ;  oh  mak  my  bed, 
mammy,  now !  ’ 

5  ‘  Wha  gied  ye  the  banes  o  the  fishie  till,  my 

bonnie  wee  croodlin  dow  ?  ’ 


K 

a.  Chambers’  Scottish  Ballads,  .p.  324.  b.  Chambers’ 
Popular  Rhymes  of  Scotland,  1842,  p.  53.  c.  The  Sten- 
house-Laing  ed.  of  Johnson’s  Museum,  iv,  364*,  communi¬ 
cated  by  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe. 

1  4  O  whaue  hae  ye  been  a’  the  day,  my  little 

wee  croodlin  doo  ?  ’ 

4  O  I ’ve  been  at  my  grandmother’s  ;  mak  my 
bed,  mammie,  now  !  ’ 

2  4  0  what  gat  ye  at  your  grandmother’s,  my  lit¬ 

tle  wee  croodlin  doo  ?  ’ 

4  I  got  a  bonnie  wee  fishie  ;  mak  my  bed,  mam¬ 
mie,  now  !  ’ 

3  4  0  whaur  did  she  catch  the  fishie,  my  bonnie 

wee  croodlin  doo  ?  ’ 


4  I  gied  them  till  a  wee  doggie  ;  oh  mak  my  bed, 
mammie,  now  !  ’  # 

6  4  O  whare  is  the  little  wee  doggie,  my  bonnie 
wee  croodlin  dow  ? 

O  whare  is  the  little  wee  doggie,  my  bonnie 
wee  croodlin  doo  ?  ’ 

4  It  shot  out  its  fit  and  died,  and  sae  maun  I  do 
too  ; 

Oh  mak  my  bed,  mammy,  now,  now,  oh  mak 
my  bed,  mammy,  now !  ’ 


4  She  catchd  it  in  the  gutter  hole ;  mak  my  bed, 
mammie,  now  !  ’ 

4  4  And  what  did  she  do  wi  the  fish,  my  little  wee 

croodlin  doo  ?  ’ 

4  She  boiled  it  in  a  brass  pan ;  0  mak  my  bed, 
mammie,  now  !  ’ 

5  4  And  what  did  ye  do  wi  the  banes  o’t,  my 

bonnie  wee  croodlin  doo  ?  ’ 

4 1  gied  them  to  my  little  dog  ;  mak  my  bed, 
mammie,  now !  ’ 

6  4  And  what  did  your  little  doggie  do,  my  bonnie 

wee  croodlin  doo  ?  ’ 

4  He  stretched  out  his  head,  his  feet,  and  deed ; 
and  so  will  I,  mammie,  now  !  ’ 


L 

Buchan’s  MSS,  ii,  322  ;  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland, 
II,  179. 

1  4  Whar  hae  ye  been  a’  the  day,  Willie  doo, 

Willie  doo  ? 

Whar  hae  ye  been  a’  the  day,  Willie,  my 
doo?’  ' 

2  4 1 ’ve  been  to  see  my  step-mother ;  make  my 

bed,  lay  me  down  ; 

Make  my  bed,  lay  me  down,  die  shall  I  now  !  ’ 

3  4  What  got  ye  frae  your  step-mother,  Willie 

doo,  Willie  doo  ? 

What  got  ye  frae  your  step-mother,  Willie,  my 
doo?’ 


4  4  She  gae  me  a  speckled  trout ;  make  my  bed, 

lay  me  down ; 

She  gae  me  a  speckled  trout,  die  shall  I  now !  ’ 

5  4  Whar  got  she  the  speckled  trout,  Willie  doo, 

Willie  doo  ?  ’ 

4  She  got  it  amang  the  heather  hills  ;  die  shall  I 
now.’ 

(5  4  What  did  she  boil  it  in,  Willie  doo,  Willie 
doo  ?  ’ 

4  She  boild  it  in  the  billy-pot ;  die  shall  I  now  !  ’ 

7  4  What  gaed  she  you  for  to  drink,  Willie  doo, 
W illie  doo  ? 

What  gaed  she  you  for  to  drink,  Willie,  my 
doo  ?* 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


165 


8  ‘  She  gaed  me  hemlock  stocks  ;  make  my  bed, 
lay  me  down ; 

Made  in  the  brewing  pot ;  die  shall  I  now  !  ’ 


9  They  made  his  bed,  laid  him 
lie  doo,  Willie  doo  ; 

He  turnd  his  face  to  the  wa ; 


down,  poor  Wil- 
he ’s  dead  now  ! 


M 

4 

Popular  Rhymes  of  Scotland,  1870,  p.  51.  “Mrs  Lock¬ 
hart's  copy.” 

1  ‘  Where  hae  ye  keen  a’  the  day,  my  bonny  wee 

croodin  doo  ?  ’ 

‘  0  I  hae  been  at  my  stepmother’s  house  ;  make 
my  bed,  mammie,  now,  now,  now, 

Make  my  bed,  mammie,  now  !  ’ 

2  ‘  Where  did  ye  get  your  dinner  ?  ’  my,  etc. 

‘  I  got  it  at  my  stepmother’s  ;  ’  make,  etc. 


3  ‘  What  did  she  gie  ye  to  your  dinner  ?  ’ 

‘  She  gae  me  a  little  four-footed  fish.’ 

4 2 *  4  Where  got  she  the  four-footed  fish  ?  ’ 

4  She  got  it  down  in  yon  well  strand  ;  ’  0  make, 
etc. 

5  ‘  What  did  she  do  with  the  banes  o’t  ?  ’ 

4  She  gae  them  to  the  little  dog.’ 

6  4  0  what  became  o  the  little  dog  ?  ’ 

4  O  it  shot  out  its  feet  and  died ;  ’  0  make,  etc. 


N 


Ivinloch’s  MSS,  v,  347.  In  Dr  John  Hill  Burton’s  hand. 


4  4  She  gied  me  a  spreckled  fisliie ; 
Come  mack  my  beddy  now !  ’ 


1  4  Fare  hae  ye  been  a’  day,  a’  day,  a’  day, 

Fare  hae  ye  been  a’  day,  my  little  wee  croud- 

lin  doo  ?  ’ 

2  ‘  I ’ve  been  at  my  step-mammie’s,  my  step- 

mammie’s,  my  step-mammie’s, 

I ’ve  been  at  my  step-mammie’s  ;  come  mack  my 
beddy  now !  ’ 


5  ‘  What  did  ye  wi  the  baenies  oet, 
My  little  wee  croudlin  doo  ?  ’ 

6  4  I  gaed  them  till  her  little  dogie ; 
Come  mack  my  beddy  now !  ’ 

7  4  What  did  her  little  dogie  syne, 
My  little  wee  croudlin  doo  ?  ’ 


3  ‘  AVhat  got  ye  at  yer  step-mammie’s, 
My  little  wee  croudlin  doo  ?  ’ 


8  4  He  laid  down  his  heed  and  feet ; 
And  sae  shall  I  dee  now !  ’ 


o 

From  a  manuscript  collection,  copied  out  in  1840  or  1850, 
by  a  granddaughter  of  Alexander  Fraser-Tytler,  p.  67. 

1  4  O  where  hae  ye  been  a’  the  day,  my  wee  wee 

croodlin  doo  doo  ? 

O  where  hae  ye  been  a’  the  day,  my  bonnie 
wee  croodlin  doo  ?  ’ 

‘  0  I  hae  been  to  my  step-mammie’s  ;  mak  my 
bed,  mammy,  noo,  noo, 

Mak  my  bed,  mammy,  noo  !  ’ 

2  ‘  0  what  did  yere  step-mammie  gie  to  you  ?  ’ 

etc. 

4  She  gied  to  me  a  wee  wee  fish,’  etc. 


3  4  [0]  what  did  she  boil  the  wee  fishie  in  ?  ’ 

‘  O  she  boiled  it  in  a  wee  wee  pan  ;  it  turned 
baitli  black  an  blue,  blue, 

It  turned  baith  black  an  blue.’ 

4  ‘  An  what  did  she  gie  the  banes  o’t  to  ?  ’ 

‘  0  she  gied  them  to  a  wee  wee  dog ;  ’  mak, 
etc.'" 

5  4  An  what  did  the  wee  wee  doggie  do  then  ?  ’ 

4 0  it  put  out  its  tongue  and  its  feet,  an  it 
deed ;  an  sae  maun  I  do  noo,  noo, 

An  sae  maun  I  do  noo  !  ’ 


166 


12.  LORD  RANDAL 


C.  42.  your  father,  King  Henry,  my  son. 

I.  a.  I4.  faint  to,  an  obvious  corruption  of  fain  to, 
is  found  also  in  b,  c ;  d  has  fain  wad ;  e, 
faint  or  fain  ;  f,  fain  ;  g,  I  faint  to. 

JV.  B.  8  stands  5  in  theJBS.  copy ,  but  is  the 
last  stanza  in  all  others  which  have  it. 

b.  21.  for  your  dinner. 

After  2  follows : 

Who  cooked  you  the  eels,  Tiranti,  my  son  ? 
etc. 

0 ’t  was  my  grandmother ;  mother,  make  my 
bed  soon,  etc. 

b  5  =  a  3  :  x.  Where  did  she  get  the  eels  ?  etc. 

3.  By  the  side  of  the  haystack,  etc. 
b6  =  a7:7  =  a8:8  =  a5.  84.  and  die  to 
lie  down. 

a  6  is  wanting  in  b. 

c.  I4.  at  my  heart  ( and  always). 

21.  O  what  did  she  give  you  ?  etc.  3.  Striped 
eels  fried,  etc. 

3  =  a  4.  1.  O  how  did  they  look  ?  etc. 
3.  Ringed,  streaked,  and  speckled,  etc. 

•  4  =  a  3.  x.  O  where  did  they  come  from  ? 
51.  0  what  will  you  give  your  father,  my 
son  ? 

2.  0  what  will  you  give  him  ? 

3.  A  coach  and  six  horses. 

61.  O  what  will  you  give  your  mother,  fny 
son  ?  as  in  5. 

3.  All  my  gold  and  my  silver. 

71.  O  what  will  you  give  your  granny  ?  as 

in  5. 

81.  0  where  ’ll,  etc. 
c  adds,  as  9  : 

So  this  is  the  end  of  Tiranti  my  son, 

So  this  is  the  end  of  my  sweet  little  one  : 

His  grandmother  poisoned  him  with  an  old 
dead  snake, 

And  he  left  her  a  halter  to  hang  by  the 
neck. 

d.  I1,  etc.  Tyrante. 

3.  O  I ’ve  been  to  my  uncle’s,  etc. 

4.  and  fain  wad  lie  doun. 

23.  eels  and  fresh  butter. 

3  =  a  4.  s.  black  striped  with  yellow. 

4  —  a  7.  l.  What  ’ll  ye  will  to  your  mither  ? 

3.  My  gold  and  my  silver. 


5  =  a  6.  x.  What  ’ll  ye  will  to  your  father  ? 

3.  My  coach  and  my  horses. 

6  =  a  8.  1.  What  ’ll  you  will  to  your  uncle  ? 

3,  5  of  a  are  wanting. 

e.  I4.  For  I ’m  sick  at  heart,  and  faint  [fain] 

to  lie  down. 

3  —  a  7.  h  What  will  you  leave  your  moth¬ 
er? 

3.  A  box  full  of  jewels. 

41.  What  will  you  leave  your  sister? 

3.  A.  box  of  fine  clothing. 

5  =  a  8.  3.  A  rope  to  hang  her  with. 

6  ==  a  5.  1.  Where  shall  I  make  it  ? 

3,  4  of  a  are  wanting. 

f.  This  copy  was  derived  from  the  singing  of 

the  lady  who  communicated  e,  and  they 
naturally  agree  closely. 

I4.  fain  to  lie  down.  f3  =  e4:f4  =  e3. 

g.  I4.  For  I ’m  sick  at  the  heart,  and  I  faint 

to  lie  down. 

21.  What  did  you  get  at  your  grandmoth¬ 
er’s  ? 

3.  I  got  eels  stewed  in  butter. 

3  =  a  8.  1.  What  will  you  leave  .... 

41.  What  will  you  leave  to  your  brother  ? 

3.  A  full  suit  of  mourning. 

5  =  a  7.  h  leave  to  your  mother. 

3.  A  carriage  and  fine  horses. 

6  =  a  5. 

3,  4  o/a  are  tv  anting. 

K.  a,  b,  c  are  printed,  in  the  publications  in 
which  they  occur,  in  four-line  stanzas. 

b.  Omits  4. 

61.  the  little  doggie.  2.  as  I  do,  mammie, 
noo. 

c.  I1.  my  bonnie  wee  crooden  doo :  and  al¬ 

ways. 

2.  at  my  step-mither’s. 

2.  And  what  did  scho  gie  you  to  eat  .  .  . 

Scho  gied  to  me  a  wee  fishie  .... 

31.  An  what  did  she  catch  the  fishie  in  .  .  . 

4  is  wanting. 

L.  Written  in  the  MS.,  and  printed  by  Buchan , 
in  stanzas  of  4  lines. 

M.  Printed  by  Chambers  in  stanzas  of  4  lines,  the 
last  repeated. 

N.  The  second  line  of  each  stanza  is  written  as 
two  in  the  MS. 

O.  The  stanza,  being  written  with  short  lines  in 
the  manuscript,  is  of  seven  lines,  including 
the  repetitions. 


i f 


13  EDWARD 


167 


13 

EDWARD 


A.  a.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  139.  b.  Motherwell’s  Min-  B.  Percy’s  Reliques,  1765,  I,  53.  Communicated  by 
strelsy,  p.  339.  From  recitation.  Sir  David  Dalrymple. 

C.  MS.  of  A.  L  aing,  one  stanza.  , 


A  b,  “  given  from  the  recitation  of  an  old 
woman,”  is  evidently  A  a  slightly  regulated 
by  Motherwell.  B,  we  are  informed  in  the 
4th  edition  of  the  Reliques,  p.  61,  was  sent 
Percy  by  Sir  David  Dalrymple,  Lord  Hailes. 
Motherwell  thought  there  was  reason  to  be¬ 
lieve  “  that  his  lordship  made  a  few  slight  ver¬ 
bal  improvements  on  the  copy  he  transmitted, 
and  altered  the  hero’s  name  to  Edward,  — 
a  name  which,  by  the  bye,  never  occurs  in  a 
Scottish  ballad,  except  where  allusion  is  made 
to  an  English  king.”  *  Dalrymple,  at  least, 
wduld  not  be  likely  to  change  a  Scotch  for  an 
English  name.  The  Bishop  might  doubtless 
prefer  Edward  to  Wat,  or  Jock,  or  even  Da¬ 
vie.  But  as  there  is  no  evidence  that  any 
change  of  name  was  made,  the  point  need 
not  be  discussed.  As  for  other  changes,  the 
word  “  brand,”  in  the  first  stanza,  is  possibly 
more  literary  than  popular;  further  than  this 
the  language  is  entirely  fit.  The  affectedly  an¬ 
tique  spelling  f  in  Percy’s  copy  has  given  rise 
to  vague  suspicions  concerning  the  authen¬ 
ticity  of  the  ballad,  or  of  the  language  :  but  as 
spelling  will  not  make  an  old  ballad,  so  it  will 
not  unmake  one.  We  have,  but  do  not  need, 

*  An  eager  “  Englishman  ”  might  turn  Motherwell’s  ob¬ 
jection  to  the  name  into  an  argument  for  ‘  Edward  ’  being  an 
“  English  ”  ballad. 

t  That  is  to  say,  initial  quh  and  z  for  modern  wh  and  y, 
for  nothing  else  would  have  excited  attention.  Perhaps  a 
transcriber  thought  he  ought  to  .  give  the  language  a  look 
at  least  as  old  as  Gavin  Douglas,  who  spells  quliy,  dots, 
lour.  The  quh  would  serve  a  purpose,  if  understood  as  .in¬ 
dicating  that  the  aspirate  was  not  to  be  dropped,  as  it  often 
is  in  English  why.  The  z  is  the  successor  of  and  was 


the  later  traditional  copy  to  prove  the  other 
genuine.  ‘Edward’  is  not  only  unimpeach¬ 
able,  but  has  ever  been  regarded  as  one  of 
the  noblest  and  most  sterling  specimens  of 
the  popular  ballad. 

Motherwell  seems  to  incline  to  regard  ‘  Ed¬ 
ward  ’  rather  as  a  detached  portion  of  a  ballad 
than  as  complete  in  itself.  “  The  verses  of 
which  it  consists,”  he  says,  “  generally  con¬ 
clude  the  ballad  of  ‘  The  Twa  Brothers,’  and 
also  some  versions  of  ‘  Lizie  Wan :  ’  ”  Min¬ 
strelsy,  LXVil,  12.  The  Finnish  parallel 
which  Motherwell  refers  to,  might  have  con¬ 
vinced  him  that  the  ballad  is  complete  as  it 
is  ;  and  he  knew  as  well  as  anybody  that  one 
ballad  is  often  appended  to  another  by  reciters, 
to  lengthen  the  story  or  improve  the  conclu¬ 
sion.  J  More  or  less  of  ‘  Edward  ’  wjll  be  found 
in  four  versions  of  ‘The  Twa  Brothers’  and 
two  of  ‘  Lizie  Wan,’  further  on  in  this  vol¬ 
ume. 

This  ballad  has  been  familiarly  known  to 
have  an  exact  counterpart  in  Swedish.  There 
are  four  versions,  differing  only  as  to  length  : 
‘  Sven  i  Rosengard,’  A,  Afzelius,  No  67,  III, 
4,  eleven  two-line  stanzas,  with  three  more 

meant  to  be  pronounced  y,  as  z  is,  or  was,  pronounced  in 
gaherlunzie  and  other  Scottish  words.  See  Dr  J.  A.  II.  Mur¬ 
ray’s  Dialect  of  the  Southern  Counties  of  Scotland,  pp.  118, 
129.  Since  quh  and  z  serve  rather  as  rocks  of  offence  than 
landmarks,  I  have  thought  it  best  to  use  wh  and  y. 

}  Motherwell  also  speaks  of  a  ballad  of  the  same  nature 
as  quoted  in  Werner’s  ‘  Twenty-Fourth  of  February.’  The 
stanza  cited  (in  Act  I,  Scene  1)  seems  to  be  Herder’s  trans¬ 
lation  of  ‘  Edward  ’  given  from  memory. 


168 


13.  EDWARD 


lines  of  burden  ;  B,  in,  3,  six  stanzas  (Berg¬ 
strom’s  ed.,  No  54,  l,  2) ;  C,  Arwidsson,  No 
87  A,  n,  83,  eighteen  stanzas ;  D,  No  *87  B, 
II,  86,  sixteen  stanzas.  The  same  in  Danish  : 
A,  Grundtvig,  Engelske  og  skotske  Folke- 
viser,  p.  175,  nine  stanzas  ;  B,  Boisen,  Nye 
og  gamle  Yiser,  10th  ed.,  No  95,  p.  185, 
‘  Brodermordet.’  And  in  Finnish,  probably 
derived  from  the  Swedish,  but  with  traits  of 
its  own:  A,  Schroter’s  Finnische  Runen,  p. 
124,  ‘  Werinen  Pojka,’  The  Bloodstained  Son, 
fifteen  two-line  stanzas,  with  two  lines  of  re¬ 
frain;  B,  ‘  Velisurmaaja,’  Brother-Murderer, 
Kanteletar,  p.  x,  twenty  stanzas. 

All  these  are  a  dialogue  between  mother 
and  son,  with  a  question  and  answer  in  each 
stanza.  The  mother  asks,  Where  have  you 
been  ?  The  son  replies  that  he  has  been  in 
the  stable  [Danish,  grove,  fields  ;  Finnish  A, 
on  the  sea-strand],  “  How  is  it  that  your  foot 
is  bloody  ?  ”  *  [clothes,  shirt ;  Finnish,  “  How 
came  your  jerkin  muddy?”  etc.]  A  horse 
has  kicked  or  trod  on  him.  “  How  came  your 
sword  so  bloody  ?  ”  He  then  confesses  that  he 
has  killed  his  brother.  [Swedish  D  and  the 
Danish  copies  have  no  question  about  the  foot, 
etc.]  Then  follows  a  series  of  questions  as  to 
what  the  son  will  do  with  himself,  and  what 
shall  become  of  his  wife,  children,  etc.,  which 
are  answered  much  as  in  the  English  ballad. 
Finally,  in  all,  the  mother  asks  when  he  will 
come  back,  and  he  replies  (with  some  varia¬ 
tions),  When  crows  are  white.  And  that  will 
be  ?  When  swans  are  black.  And  that  ? 
When  stones  float.  And  that  ?  When  feath¬ 
ers  sink,  etc.  This  last  feature,  stupidly  ex¬ 
aggerated  in  some  copies,  and  even  approach¬ 
ing  burlesque,  is  one  of  the  commonplaces  of 
ballad  poetry,  and  may  or  may  not  have  been, 

*  We  have  a  similar  passage  in  most  of  the  copies  of  the 
third  class  of  the  German  ballads  corresponding  to  No  4.  A 
brother  asks  the  man  who  has  killed  his  sister  why  his  shoes 
[sword,  hands]  are  bloody.  See  p.  36,  p.  38.  So  in  ‘  Herr 
Axel/  Arwidsson,  No  46,  1,  308. 

t  These  have  perhaps  been  adapted  to  the  stanza  of  ‘  The 


from  the  beginning,  a  part  of  the  ballads  in 
which  it  occurs.  Such  a  conclusion  could  not 
be  made  to  adhere  to  ‘  Edward,’  the  last  stanza 
of  which  is  peculiar  in  implicating  the  mother 
in  the  guilt  of  the  murder.  Several  versions 
of  4  The  Twa  Brothers’  preserve  this  trait,  and 
‘  Lizie  W an  ’  also. 

The  stanza  of  this  ballad  was  originally,  in 
all  probability,  one  of  two  lines  —  a  question 
and  an  answer  —  with  refrains,  as  we  find  it 
in  A  10,  11,  12,  and  the  corresponding  Swed¬ 
ish  and  Finnish  ballad  ;  and  in  ‘  Lord  Randal,’ 
J,  K,  etc.,  and  also  the  corresponding  Swedish 
and  German  ballad.  A  1,  2,  3,  5,  6,  8,  9  are 
now  essentially  stanzas  of  one  line,  with  re¬ 
frains  ;  that  is,  the  story  advances  in  these  at 
that  rate.  A  4,  7  (=  C)  are  entirely  irregu¬ 
lar,  substituting  narrative  or  descriptive  cir¬ 
cumstances  for  the  last  line  of  the  refrain, 
and  so  far  forth  departing  from  primitive  sim- 
plicity.]*  The  stanza  in  B  embraces  always 
a  question  and  a  reply,  but  for  what  is  re¬ 
frain  in  other  forms  of  the  ballad  we  have 
epical  matter  in  many  cases.  A  1,  2,  sub¬ 
stantially,  =  B  1;  A  3,  4  =  B  2;  A  5,  6  = 
B  3 ;  A  8,  9  =  B  4;  A  11  =  6 ;  A  12=  7. 

Testaments  such  as  this  ballad  ends  with 
have  been  spoken  of  under  No  11. 

A  is  translated  by  Grundtvig,  Engelske  og 
skotske  Folkeviser,  No  26,  p.  172  ;  by  Rosa 
Warrens,  Schottische  V.  L.,  No  21,  p.  96 ;  by 
Wolff,  Halle  des  Volker,  1,  22,  and  Haus- 
schatz,  p.  223.  B,  in  Afzelius,  III,  10  ;  “  often 
in  Danish,”  Grundtvig;  by  Herder,  Volkslie- 
der,  11,  207 ;  by  Doring,  p.  217 ;  Gerhard,  p. 
88 ;  Knortz,  Schottische  Balladen,  No  27. 
Swedish  A,  by  W.  and  M.  Howitt,  Literature 
and  Romance  of  Northern  Europe,  I,  263.]: 

Twa  Brothers/  with  some  versions  of  which,  as  already  re¬ 
marked,  the  present  ballad  is  blended. 

J  With  regard  to  translations,  I  may  say  now,  what  I 
might  well  have  said  earlier,  that  I  do  not  aim  at  making  a 
complete  list,  but  give  such  as  have  fallen  under  my  notice. 


13.  EDWARD 


169 


A 

a.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  139.  From  Mrs  King,  Kilbar- 
chan.  b.  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  p.  339. 

1  ‘  What  bluid ’s  that  on  thy  coat  lap, 

Son  Davie,  son  Davie  ? 

What  bluid ’s  that  on  thy  coat  lap  ? 

And  the  truth  come  tell  to  me.’ 

2  ‘  It  is  the  bluid  of  my  great  hawk, 

Mother  lady,  mother  lady  : 

It  is  the  bluid  of  my  great  hawk, 

And  the  truth  I  have  told  to  thee.’ 

3  ‘  Hawk’s  bluid  was  neer  sae  red, 

Son  Davie,  son  Davie  : 

Hawk’s  bluid  was  neer  sae  red, 

And  the  truth  come  tell  to  me.’ 

4  ‘  It  is  the  bluid  of  my  greyhound, 

Mother  lady,  mother  lady  : 

It  is  the  bluid  of  my  greyhound, 

And  it  wadna  rin  for  me.’ 

5  ‘  Hound’s  bluid  was  neer  sae  red, 

Son  Davie,  son  Davie  : 

•  Hound’s  bluid  was  neer  sae  red, 

And  the  truth  pome  tell  to  me.’ 

6  ‘  It  is  the  bluid  o  my  brither  John, 

Mother  lady,  mother  lady  : 


B 

Percy’s  Reliques,  1765,  i,  53.  Communicated  by  Sir 
David  Dalrymple. 

1  1  Why  dois  your  brand  sae  drap  wi  bluid, 

Edward,  Edward, 

Why  dois  your  brand  sae  drap  wi  bluid, 

And  why  sae  sad  gang  yee  O  ?  ’ 

‘  O  I  hae  killed  my  hauke  sae  guid, 

Mither,  mitlier, 

0  I  hae  killed  my  hauke  sae  guid, 

And  I  had  nae  mair  bot  hee  O.’ 

2  ‘  Your  liaukis  bluid  was  nevir  sae  reid, 

Edward,  Edward, 

Your  haukis  bluid  was  nevir  sae  reid, 

My  deir  son  I  tell  thee  0.’ 

22 


It  is  the  bluid  o  my  brither  John, 

And  the  truth  I  have  told  to  thee.’ 

7  ‘  What  about  did  the  plea  begin, 

Son  Davie,  son  Davie  ?  ’ 

‘  It  began  about  the  cutting  of  a  willow  wand 
That  would  never  been  a  tree.’ 

8  ‘  What  death  dost  thou  desire  to  die, 

Son  Davie,  son  Davie  ? 

What  death  dost  thou  desire  to  die  ? 

And  the  truth  come  tell  to  me.’ 

9  4 1  ’ll  set  my  foot  in  a  bottomless  ship, 

Mother  lady,  mother  lady  : 

I  ’ll  set  my  foot  in  a  bottomless  ship, 

And  ye  ’ll  never  see  mair  o  me.’ 

10  ‘  What  wilt  thou  leave  to  thy  poor  wife, 

Son  Davie,  son  Davie  ?  ’ 

‘  Grief  and  sorrow  all  her  life, 

And  she  ’ll  never  see  mair  o  me.’ 

11  ‘  What  wilt  thou  leave  to  thy  old  son, 

Son  Davie,  son  Davie  ?  ’ 

‘  I  ’ll  leave  him  the  weary  world  to  wander  up 
and  down, 

And  he  ’ll  never  get  mair  o  me.’ 

12  ‘  What  wilt  thou  leave  to  thy  mother  dear, 

Son  Davie,  son  Davie  ?  ’ 

‘  A  fire  o  coals  to  burn  her,  wi  hearty  cheer, 
And  she  ’ll  never  get  mair  o  me.’ 


‘  O  I  hae  killed  my  reid-roan  steid, 

Mither,  mither, 

0  I  hae  killed  my  reid-roan  steid, 

That  erst  was  sae  fair  and  frie  0.’ 

3  ‘  Your  steid  was  auld,  and  ye  hae  gat  mair, 

Edward,  Edward, 
Your  steid  was  auld,  and  ye  hae  gat  mair, 
Sum  other  dule  ye  drie  O.’ 

‘  0  I  hae  killed  my  fadir  deir, 

Mither,  mither, 

0  I  hae  killed  my  fadir  deir, 

Alas,  and  wae  is  mee  O !  ’ 

4  ‘  And  whatten  penance  wul  ye  drie,  for  that, 

Edward,  Edward  ? 


170 


14.  BABYLON;  OR,  THE  BONNIE  BANKS  O  FORDIE 


And  whatten  penance  will  ye  drie  for  that? 

My  deir  son,  now  tell  me  O.’ 

‘  He  set  my  feit  in  yonder  boat, 

Mither,  mither, 
lie  set  my  feit  in  yonder  boat, 

And  lie  fare  ovir  the  sea  0.’ 

5  ‘  And  what  wul  ye  doe  wi  your  towirs  and 

your  ha, 

Edward,  Edward  ? 

And  what  wul  ye  doe  wi  your  towirs  and  your 
ha, 

That  were  sae  fair  to  see  O  ?  * 

‘  He  let  thame  stand  tul  they  doun  fa, 

Mither,  mither, 

lie  let  thame  stand  tul  they  doun  fa, 

For  here  nevir  mair  maun  I  bee  O.’ 

6  ( And  what  wul  ye  leive  to  your  bairns  and 

your  wife, 

Edward,  Edward  ? 


And  what  wul  ye  leive  to  your  bairns  and  your 
wife, 

Whan  ye  gang  ovir  the  sea  0  ?  ’ 

‘  The  warldis  room,  late  them  beg  thrae  life, 

Mither,  mither, 

The  warldis  room,  late  them  beg  thrae  life, 

For  thame  nevir  mair  wul  I  see  0.’ 

7  ‘  And  what  wul  ye  leive  to  your  ain  mither 
deir, 

Edward,  Edward? 

And  what  wul  ye  leive  to  your  ain  mither 
deir  ? 

My  deir  son,  now  tell  me  O.’ 

1  The  curse  of  hell  frae  me  sail  ye  heir, 

Mither,  mither, 

The  curse  of  hell  frae  me  sail  ye  heir, 

Sic  counseils  ye  gave  to  me  O.’ 


c 

« 

MS.  of  Alexander  Laing,  1829,  p.  25. 

‘  0  what  did  the  fray  begin  about  ? 
My  son,  come  tell  to  me  :  ’ 


‘  It  began  about  the  breaking  o  the  bonny  hazel 
wand, 

And  a  penny  wad  hae  bought  the  tree.’ 


A.  b.  I4.  tell  to  me  0.  And  so  every  fourth  line. 
74.  That  would  never  hae  been  a  tree  O. 
104.  And  she  ’ll  never  get  mair  frae  me  0. 
II3.  The  weaiy  warld  to  wander  up  and 
down. 


B.  Initial  qu  for  w  and  z  for  y  have  been  changed 
throughout  to  w  and  y. 

67.  let. 


14 

BABYLON;  OB,  THE  BONNIE  BANKS  0  FORDIE 


A.  a,  b.  ‘Babylon;  or,  The  Bonnie  Banks  o  Fortlie,’ 
Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  p.  88.  c.  The  same,  Ap¬ 
pendix,  p.  xxii,  No  xxvi. 

B.  a.  Herd’s  MSS,  i,  38,  n,  76.  b.  ‘  The  Banishd 
Man,’  The  Scots  Magazine,  October,  1803,  p.  699, 
evidently  derived  from  Herd. 


C.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  172. 

D.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  174. 

E.  ‘  Duke  of  Perth’s  Three  Daughters,’  Kinloch’s  An¬ 
cient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  212. 


14.  BABYLON  ;  OR,  THE  BONNIE  BANKS  O  FORDIE 


171 


B  a  is  from  tradition  of  the  latter  half  of 
the  eighteenth  century ;  the  other  copies  from 
the  earlier  part  of  this. 

Three  sisters  go  out  (together,  A,  B.  C,  suc¬ 
cessively,  D,  E)  to  gather  flowers  (A,  B,  E). 
A  banished  man  (outlyer  bold,  D,  Loudon 
lord,  E)  starts  up  from  a  hiding-place,  and 
offers  them  one  after  the  other  the  choice  of 
being  his  wife  or  dying  by  his  hand. 

(A.)  ‘  It ’s  whether  will  ye  be  a  rank  robber’s  wife, 
Or  will  ye  die  by  my  wee  penknife  ?  ’ 

(D.)  ‘  Wiltow  twinn  with  thy  maidenhead,  or  thy 
sweet  life  ?  ’ 

The  first  and  the  second  express  a  simple 
preference  for  death,  and  are  killed  and  laid 
by,  “to  bear  the  red  rose  company”  (A). 
The  youngest,  in  A,  says  she  has  a  brother  in 
the  wood,  who  will  kill  him  if  he  kills  her. 
The  outlaw  asks  the  brother’s  name,  finds  that 
he  himself  is  the  man,  and  takes  his  own  life 
with  the  same  weapon  that  had  shed  the  blood 
of  his  sisters.  B,  C,  D  have  three  brothers, 
the  youngest  of  whom  is  the  banished  lord 
(C),  the  outlyer  bold  (D).  The  story  is  de¬ 
fective  in  B,  C.  In  D  the  outlaw,  on  finding 
what  he  has  done,  takes  a  long  race,  and  falls 
on  his  knife.  The  conclusion  of  E  is  not  so 
finely  tragic.  A  brother  John  comes  riding 
by  just  as  the  robber  is  about  to  kill  the  third 
sister,  apprehends  him  by  the  agency  of  his 
three  pages,  and  reserves  him  to  be  hanged  on 
a  tree, 

Or  thrown  into  the  poisond  lake, 

To  feed  the  toads  and  rattle-snake. 

According  to  the  account  given  by  Herd, 
and  repeated  by  Jamieson,  the  story  of  the 
lost  conclusion  of  B  made  the  banished  man 
discover  that  he  had  killed  his  two  brothers  as 
well  as  his  two  sisters. 

This  ballad,  with  additional  circumstances, 
is  familiar  to  all  branches  of  the  Scandinavian 
race. 

Danish.  There  are  many  versions  from 
oral  tradition,  as  yet  unprinted,  besides  these  • 
two  :  A,  ‘  Hr.  Truels’s  Dottre,’  Danske  Viser, 


hi,  392,  No  1G4,  there  reprinted  from  Sand- 
vig,  Beskrivelse  over  0en  Moen,  1776  :  B, 
‘  Herr  Thors  Born,’  from  recent  tradition  of 
North  Sleswig,  Berggreen,  Danske  Folke- 
Sange,  3d  ed.,  p.  88,  No  42. 

A.  Herr  Truels’  three  daughters  oversleep 
their  matins  one  morning,  and  are  roused  by 
their  mother.  If  we  have  overslept  our  mat¬ 
ins,  they  say,  we  will  make  up  at  high  mass. 
They  set  out  for  church,  and  in  a  wood  fall  in 
with  three  robbers,  who  say  : 

‘  Whether  will  ye  he  three  robbers’  wives, 

Or  will  ye  rather  lose  your  lives  ?  ’ 

Much  rather  death,  say  they.  The  two  elder 
sisters  submitted  to  their  fate  without  a  word  ; 
the  third  made  a  hard  resistance.  With  her 
last  breath  she  adjured  the  robbers  to  seek 
a  lodging  at  Herr  Truels’  that  night.  This 
they  did.  They  drank  so  long  that  they 
drank  Herr  Truels  to  bed.  Then  they  asked 
his  wife  to  promise  herself  to  all  three.  First, 
she  said,  she  must  look  into  their  bags.  In 
their  bags  she  saw  her  daughters’  trinkets. 
She  excused  herself  for  a  moment,  barred  the 
door  strongly,  roused  her  husband,  and  made 
it  known  to  him  that  these  guests  had  killed 
his  three  daughters.  Herr  Truels  called  on 
all  his  men  to  arm.  He  asked  the  robbers 
who  was  their  father.  They  said  that  they 
had  been  stolen  by  robbers,  on  their  way  to 
school,  one  day ;  had  had  a  hard  life  for  four¬ 
teen  years ;  and  the  first  crime  they  had  com¬ 
mitted  was  killing  three  maids  yesterday. 
Herr  Truels  revealed  to  them  that  they  had 
murdered  their  sisters,  and  offered  them  new 
clothes,  in  which  they  might  go  away.  “  Nay,” 
they  said,  “  not  so ;  life  for  life  is  meet.” 
They  were  taken  out  of  the  town,  and  their 
heads  struck  off.  B  differs  from  A  in  only  a 
few  points.  The  robbers  ask  lodging  at  Herr 
Thor’s,  as  being  pilgrims.  When  he  discovers 
their  true  character,  he  threatens  them  with 
the  wheel.  They  say,  Shall  we  come  to  the 
wheel?  Our  father  drinks  Yule  with  the 
king.  They  tell  him  their  story,  and  their 
father  offers  them  saddle  and  horse  to  make 
their  best  way  off.  They  reply,  “  W e  will 


172 


14.  BABYLON;  Oil,  THE  BONNIE  BANKS  O  FORDIE 


give  blood  for  blood,”  spread  their  cloaks  on 
the  floor,  and  let  their  blood  run. 

Swedish.  ‘Pehr  Tvrsons  Dottrar  i 
Wange.’  A,  Arwidsson,  II,  413,  No  166.  B, 
Afzelius,  in,  193,  No  98  :  ed.  Bergstrom,  I, 
380,  No  84,  l.  C,  Afzelius,  in,  197  :  ed.  Berg¬ 
strom,  I,  382,  No  84,  2,  as  old  as  the  last  half 
of  the  seventeenth  century.  D,  Afzelius,  ill, 
202  :  ed.  Bergstrom,  I,  384,  No  84,  3.  B,  “  C. 
J.  Wesson,  De  paroecia  Kama  (an  academical 
dissertation),  Upsala,  1836,”  Arwidsson,  as 
above,  who  mentions  another  unprinted  copy 
in  the  Royal  Library. 

A.  Herr  Tores’  daughters  overslept  matins, 
dressed  themselves  handsomely,  and  set  off  for 
mass.  All  on  the  heath  they  were  met  by 
three  wood-robbers,  who  demanded,  Will  ye 
be  our  wives,  or  lose  your  lives  ?  The  first 
answered :  God  save  us  from  trying  either  ! 
the  second,  Rather  let  us  range  the  world ! 
the  third,  Better  death  with  honor  !  But 

First  were  they  the  three  wood-robbers’  wives, 

And  after  that  they  lost  their  young  lives. 

The  robbers  strip  them;  then  go  and  ask  to  be 
taken  in  by  Herr  Tores.  He  serves  them  with 
mead  and  wine,  but  presently  begins  to  wish 
his  daughters  were  at  home.  His  wife  sees 
him  to  bed ;  then  returns  to  her  guests,  who 
offer  her  a  silken  sark  to  pass  the  night  with 
them.  “  Give  me  a  sight  of  the  silken  sark,” 
she  cries,  with  prophetic  soul :  “  God  have 
mercy  on  my  daughters  !  ”  She  rouses  her 
husband,  and  tells  him  that  the  robbers  have 
slain  his  bairns.  He  puts  on  his  armor  and 
kills  two  of  them.:  the  third  begs  to  be  spared 
till  he  can  say  who  were  his  kin  ;  his  father’s 
name  is  Tores!  Father  and  mother  resolve 
to  build  a  church  for  penance,  and  it  shall  be 
called  Kerna.  B,  C,  D.  The  girls  meet  three 
“  vallare,”  strolling  men,  and  none  of  them 
good  (C).  The  robbers  cut  off  the  girls’  heads 
on  the  trunk  of  a  birch  (cf.  English  C  5  :  “  It ’s 
lean  your  head  upon  my  staff,”  and  with  his 
pen-knife  he  has  cutted  it  aff)  :  three  springs 

*  hyngbye  insists  on  translating  vadlarar  pilgrims,  though 
his  people  understood  the  word  to  mean  robbers.  He  refers 
to  the  Icelandic  vallari,  which,  originally  a  pilgrim,  came  to 
mean  a  tramp.  No  one  can  fail  to  recognize  the  character 


burst  forth  immediately.  They  go  to  the 
house,  and  ask  the  mother  if  she  will  buy 
silken  sarks  that  nine  maids  have  stitched 
(B).  She  says  : 

‘  Open  your  sacks,  and  let  me  see  : 

Mayhap  I  shall  know  them  all  three.’ 

The  father,  in  B,  when  he  discovers  that  he 
has  slain  his  own  sons,  goes  to  the  smith,  and 
has  an  iron  band  fastened  round  his  middle. 
The  parents  vow  to  build  a  church  as  an  ex¬ 
piation,  and  it  shall  be  called  Kerna  (B,  C). 

Faroe.  4  Torkilds  Riim,  eller  St.  Oatha- 
rime  Vise,’  Lyngbye,  Fseroiske  Qvseder, 

In  this  form  of  the  story,  as  in  the  Icelandic 
versions  which  follow,  the  robbers  are  not  the 
brothers  of  the  maids.  Torkild’s  two  daugh¬ 
ters  sleep  till  the  sun  shines  on  their  beds. 
Their  father  wakens  them,  and  tells  Katrine 
she  is  waited  for  at  church.  Katrine  dresses 
herself  splendidly,  but  does  not  disdain  to  sad¬ 
dle  her  own  horse. 

And  since  no  knave  was  ready  to  help, 

Katrine  bridled  the  horse  herself. 

And  since  no  knave  was  standing  about, 

Herself  put  the  bit  in  her  horse’s  mouth. 

First  she  came  upon  three  strollers  (vadla¬ 
rar  *),  then  two,  then  one,  and  the  last  asked 
her  whether  she  would  pass  the  night  with 
him  (vera  qvoldar  vujv)  or  die.  He  cut  off 
her  head,  and  wherever  her  blood  ran  a  light 
kindled  ;  where  her  head  fell  a  spring  welled 
forth :  where  her  body  lay  a  church  was  [af¬ 
terwards]  built.  The  rover  came  to  Torkild’s 
house,  and  the  father  asked  if  he  had  seen 
Katrine.  He  said  she  had  been  at  Mary  kirk 
the  day  before,  and  asked  for  a  lodging, 
feigning  to  be  sick.  This  was  readily  granted. 
He  went  to  bed,  and  Aasa,  the  other  sister, 
waited  upon  him.  He  offered  her  a  silken 
sark  to  sleep  with  him.  Aasa  asked  to  see  the 
sark  first,  and  found  on  it  her  sister’s  mark. 

who  has  become  the  terror  of  our  rural  districts,  and  to 
whom,  in  our  preposterous  regard  for  the  rights  of  “  man,” 
we  sacrifice  the  peace,  and  often  the  lives,  of  women. 


14.  BABYLON;  OR,  THE  BONNIE  BANKS  O  FORDIE 


The  fellow  went  on  to  offer  lier  a  blue  cloak 
and  gold  crown  successively,  and  on  both  of 
these  she  saw  her  sister’s  mark.  Aasa  bade 
him  good-night,  went  to  her  father,  and  told 
him  that  the  man  they  had  housed  had  killed 
his  daughter.  Torkild  ordered  his  swains 
to  light  a  pile  in  the  wood :  early  the  next 
morning  they  burned  the  murderer  on  it. 

Icelandic.  Five  Icelandic  versions,  and  the 
first  stanza  of  two  more,  are  given  in  Islenzk 
FornkvaeSi,  I,  108  ff,  No  15,  ‘  Vallara  kvaeSi.’ 

The  story  is  nearly  the  same  as  in  the  Faroe 
ballad.  Two  of  Thorkell’s  daughters  sleep 
till  after  the  sun  is  up  (B,  C).  They  wash 
and  dress  ;  they  set  out  for  church  (C).  On 
the  heath  they  encounter  a  strolling  man,  A  ;  a 
tall,  large  man,  C,  E  ;  a  horseman  or  knight,  D. 
He  greets  them  :  “  Why  will  ye  not  speak  ? 
Are  ye  come  of  elves,  or  of  kings  them¬ 
selves?”  A  [Are  ye  come  of  earls,  or  of 
beggar-churls?  B].  They  answer,  We  are 
not  come  of  elves,  nor  of  kings  themselves; 
we  are  Thorkell’s  daughters,  and  serve  Mary 
kirk.  He  asks,  Will  ye  choose  to  lose  your 
life,  or  shall  I  rather  take  you  to  wife  ? 
The  choice,  they  say,  is  hard  :  they  would 
rather  die.  He  kills  them  and  buries  them. 
At  night  he  goes  to  Thorkell’s  house,  where 
Asa  is  alone.  He  knocks  to  be  let  in  ;  Asa 
refuses ;  he  draws  the  latch  with  his  deft 
fingers  (A,  C,  D).  He  offers  Asa  a  silken 
sark  to  sleep  with  him  [and  a  blue  cloak  to 
say  nothing,  A].  She  asked  to  see  the  sark, 
and  knew  her  sisters’  work,  begged  him  to 
wait  a  moment,  went  to  her  father,  and  told 
him  that  the  murderer  of  his  daughters  was 


1  HtO 

1  l  D 

there.  Thorkell  dashed  his  harp  to  the  floor 
[and  kicked  over  the  table,  D,  E].  The  mur¬ 
derer  in  the  morning  was  hanged  like  a  dog, 
A,  B.  [Thorkell  tore  at  his  hair  and  cut 
him  down  with  an  elder-stock,  C  ;  they  fought 
three  days,  and  on  the  fourth  the  villain  was 
hanged  in  a  strap,  E,  the  knight  was  hang¬ 
ing  like  a  dog,  D].  A  miraculous  light  burned 
over  the  place  where  the  maids  had  been 
buried,  A  16,  C  27,  D  24,  E  12.  When  their 
bodies  were  taken  into  the  church,  the  bells 
rang  of  themselves,  D. 

Norwegian  versions  of  this  ballad  have 
been  obtained  from  tradition,  but  none  as  yet 
have  been  published. 

“  The  mains  and  burn  of  Fordie,  the  banks 
of  which  are  very  beautiful,”  says  Aytoun  (i, 
159),  “  lie  about  six  miles  to  the  east  of  Dun- 
keld.”  Tradition  has  connected  the  story 
with  half  a  dozen  localities  in  Sweden,  and, 
as  Professor  Grundtvig  informs  me,  with  at 
least  eight  places  in  the  different  provinces  of 
Denmark.  The  Kerna  church  of  the  Swedish 
ballads,  not  far  from  Linkoping  (Afzelius), 
has  been  popularly  supposed  to  derive  its  name 
from  a  Catharina,  Karin,  or  Kama,  killed  by 
her  own  brother,  a  wood-robber,  near  its  site. 
See  Afzelius,  ed.  Bergstrom,  II,  329  ff :  Danske 
Viser,  hi,  444  f. 

A  is  translated  by  Grundtvig,  Engelske 
og  skotske  Folkeviser,  No  34,  p.  216,  and, 
with  some  slight  use  of  Aytoun,  I,  160,  by 
Rosa  Warrens,  Schottische  Volkslieder  der 
Vorzeit,  No  18,  p.  85.  Danish  A,  by  Prior, 
hi,  252. 


A 

a.  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  p.  88.  b.  The  same.  c.  The 
same,  Appendix,  p.  xxii,  No  xxvi,  apparently  from  South 
Perthshire. 

1  There  were  three  ladies  lived  in  a  bower, 

Eh  vow  bonnie 

And  they  went  out  to  pull  a  flower. 

On  the  bonnie  banks  o  Fordie 

2  They  hadna  pu’ed  a  flower  but  ane, 

When  up  started  to  them  a  banisht  man. 


3  He ’s  taen  the  first  sister  by  her  hand, 

And  he’s  turned  her  round  and  made  her 
stand. 

4  ‘  It ’s  whether  will  ye  be  a  rank  robber’s  wife, 
Or  will  ye  die  by  my  wee  pen-knife  ?  ’ 

5  ‘  It ’s  I  ’ll  not  be  a  rank  robber’s  wife, 

But  I  .’11  rather  die  by  your  wee  pen-knife.’ 

6  lie ’s  killed  this  may,  and  he ’s  laid  her  by, 

For  to  bear  the  red  rose  company. 


174 


14.  BABYLON;  OR,  THE  BONNIE  BANKS  O  FORDIE 


7  He ’s  taken  the  second  ane  by  the  hand, 

And  he ’s  turned  her  round  and  made  her 
stand. 

8  ‘  It ’s  whether  will  ye  be  a  rank  robber’s  wife, 
Or  will  ye  die  by  my  wee  pen-knife  ?  ’ 

9  ‘  I  ’ll  not  be  a  rank  robber’s  wife, 

But  I  ’ll  rather  die  by  your  wee  pen-knife.’ 

10  He ’s  killed  this  roay,  and  he ’s  laid  her  by, 

For  to  bear  the  red  rose  company. 

11  He ’s  taken  the  youngest  ane  by  the  hand, 

And  he ’s  turned  her  round  and  made  her 

stand. 

12  Says,  ‘  Will  ye  be  a  rank  robber’s  wife, 

Or  will  ye  die  by  my  wee  pen-knife  ?  ’ 


B 

a.  Herd’s  MSS,  i,  38,  n,  76.  b.  The  Scots  Magazine, 
Oct.,  1803,  p.  699,  communicated  by  Jamieson,  and  evidently 
from  Herd’s  copy. 

1  There  wond  three  ladies  in  a  bower, 

Annet  and  Margret  and  Marjorie 
And  they  have  gane  out  to  pu  a  flower. 

And  the  dew  it  lyes  on  the  wood,  gay  ladie 

2  They  had  nae  pu’d  a  flower  but  ane, 

When  up  has  started  a  banished  man. 

3  He  has  taen  the  eldest  by  the  hand, 

He  has  turned  her  about  and  bade  her  stand. 

4  ‘Now  whether  will  ye  be  a  banisht  man’s  wife, 
Or  will  ye  be  sticked  wi  my  pen-knife  ?  ’ 

5  4 1  will  na  be  ca’d  a  banished  man’s  wife, 

I  ’ll  rather  be  sticked  wi  your  pen-knife.’ 

6  And  he  has  taen  out  his  little  pen-knife, 

And  frae  this  lady  he  has  taen  the  life. 


13  ‘  I  ’ll  not  be  a  rank  robber’s  wife, 

Nor  will  I  die  by  your  wee  pen-knife. 

14  ‘  For  I  hae  a  brother  in  this  wood, 

And  gin  ye  kill  me,  it ’s  he  ’ll  kill  thee.’ 

15  ‘  What ’s  thy  brother’s  name  ?  come  tell  to 

me.’ 

‘  My  brother’s  name  is  Baby  Lon.’ 

16  ‘  O  sister,  sister,  what  have  I  done  ! 

O  have  I  done  this  ill  to  thee  ! 

17  ‘  O  since  I ’ve  done  this  evil  deed, 

Good  sail  never  be  seen  o  me.’ 

18  He ’s  taken  out  his  wee  pen-knife, 

And  he ’s  twyned  liimsel  o  his  ain  sweet  life. 


7  He  has  taen  the  second  by  the  hand, 

He  has  turned  her  about  and  he  bad  her  stand. 

8  ‘Now  whether  will  ye  be  a  banisht  man’s  wife, 
Or  will  ye  be  sticked  wi  my  pen-knife  ?  ’ 

9  ‘  I  will  na  be  ca’d  a  banished  man’s  wife  ; 

I  ’ll  rather  be  sticked  wi  your  pen-knife.’ 

10  And  he  has  taen  out  his  little  pen-knife, 

And  frae  this  lady  he  has  taen  the  life. 

11  He  has  taen  the  youngest  by  the  hand, 

He  has  turned  her  about  and  he  bad  her  stand. 

12  ‘Now  whether  will  ye  be  a  banished  man’s 

wife, 

Or  will  ye  be  sticked  wi  my  pen-knife  ?  ’ 

13  ‘  I  winnae  be  called  a  banished  man’s  wife, 

Nor  yet  will  I  be  sticked  wi  your  pen-knife. 

14  ‘  But  gin  my  three  brethren  had  been  here, 

Ye  had  nae  slain  my  sisters  dear.’ 


14.  BABYLON;  OR,  THE  BONNIE  BANKS  O  FORDIE 


175 


C 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  172.  From  J.  Goldie,  March,  1825. 

1  There  were  three  sisters  on  a  road, 

Gilly  flower  gentle  rosemary 
And  there  they  met  a  banished  lord. 

And  the  dew  it  liings  over  the  mulberry  tree 

2  The  eldest  sister  was  on  the  road, 

And  there  she  met  with  the  banished  lord. 

3  ‘  O  will  ye  consent  to  lose  your  life, 

Or  will  ye  be  a  banished  lord’s  wife  ?  ’ 

4  ‘  I  ’ll  rather  consent  to  lose  my  life 
Before  I  ’ll  be  a  banished  lord’s  wife.’ 

5  ‘  It ’s  lean  your  head  upon  my  staff,’ 

And  with  his  pen-knife  he  has  cutted  it  aff. 

6  He  flang  her  in  amang  the  broom, 

Saying,  ‘  Lye  ye  there  till  another  ane  come.’ 

7  The  second  sister  was  on  the  road, 

And  there  she  met  with  the  banished  lord. 

8  1  O  will  ye  consent  to  lose  your  life, 

Or  will  ye  be  a  banished  lord’s  wife  ?  ’ 


D 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  174.  From  the  recitation  of  Agnes 
Lyle,  Kilbarchan,  July  27,  1825.  t 

1  There  were  three  sisters,  they  lived  in  a 

bower, 

Sing  Anna,  sing  Margaret,  sing  Marjorie 
The  youngest  o  them  was  the  fairest  flower. 
And  the  dew  goes  thro  the  wood,  gay  ladie 

2  The  oldest  of  them  she ’s  to  the  wood  gane, 

To  seek  a  braw  leaf  and  to  bring  it  hame. 

3  There  she  met  with  an  outlyer  bold, 

Lies  many  long  nights  in  the  woods  so  cold. 

4  ‘  Istow  a  maid,  or  istow  a  wife  ? 

Wiltow  twinn  with  thy  maidenhead,  or  thy 
sweet  life  ?  ’ 

5  ‘  O  kind  sir,  if  I  hae ’t  at  my  will, 

I  ’ll  twinn  with  my  life,  keep  my  maidenhead 
still.’ 


9  ‘  I  ’ll  rather  consent  to  lose  my  life 
Before  I  ’ll  be  a  banished  lord’s  wife.’ 

10  ‘  It ’s  lean  your  head  upon  my  staff,’ 

And  with  his  pen-knife  he  has  cutted  it  aff. 

11  He  flang  her  in  amang  the  broom, 

Saying,  ‘  Lie  ye  there  till  another  ane  come.’ 

% 

12  The  youngest  sister  was  on  the  road, 

And  there  she  met  with  the  banished  lord. 

13  ‘  O  will  ye  consent  to  lose  your  life, 

Or  will  ye  be  a  banished  lord’s  wife  ?  ’ 

14  ‘  0  if  my  three  brothers  were  here, 

Ye  durstna  put  me  in  such  a  fear.’ 

15  ‘  What  are  your  three  brothers,  altho  they  were 

here, 

That  I  durstna  put  you  in  such  a  fear  ?  ’ 

16  ‘  My  eldest  brother ’s  a  belted  knight, 

The  second,  he ’s  a  .  .  . 

17  ‘  My  youngest  brother ’s  a  banished  lord, 

And  oftentimes  he  walks  on  this  road.’ 

*  *  *  *  # 


6  He ’s  taen  out  his  we  pen-knife, 

He ’s  twinned  this  young  lady  of  her  sweet  life 

7  He  wiped  his  knife  along  the  dew  ; 

But  the  more  he  wiped,  the  redder  it  grew. 

'  8  The  second  of  them  she ’s  to  the  wood  gane, 
To  seek  her  old  sister,  and  to  bring  her  hame. 

9  There  she  met  with  an  outlyer  bold, 

Lies  many  long  nights  in  the  woods  so  cold. 

10  ‘  Istow  a  maid,  or  istow  a  wife  ? 

Wiltow  twinn  with  thy  maidenhead,  or  thy 
sweet  life  ?  ’ 

11  ‘0  kind  sir,  if  I  hae ’t  at  my  will, 

I  ’ll  twinn  with  my  life,  keep  my  maidenhead 
still.’ 

12  He ’s  taen  out  his  we  pen-knife, 

He ’s  twinned  this  young  lady  of  her  sweet  life. 


176 


14.  BABYLON;  OR,  THE  BONNIE  BANKS  O  FORDIE 


13  He  wiped  his  knife  along  the  dew  ; 

But  the  more  he  wiped,  the  redder  it  grew. 

14  The  youngest  of  them  she  ’s  to  the  wood  gane, 
To  seek  her  two  sisters,  and  to  bring  them 

hame. 

15  There  she  met  with  an  outlyer  bold, 

Lies  many  long  nights  in  the  woods  so  cold. 

16  ‘  Istow  a  maid,  or  istow  a  wife  ? 

Wiltow  twinn  with  thy  maidenhead,  or  thy 
sweet  life  ?  ’ 

17  ‘  If  my  three  brethren  they  were  here, 

Such  questions  as  these  thou  durst  nae  speer.’ 


18  ‘  Pray,  what  may  thy  three  brethren  be, 
v  That  I  durst  na  mak  so  bold  with  thee  ?  ’ 

19 *  1 * * 4  The  eldest  o  them  is  a  minister  bred, 

He  teaches  the  people  from  evil  to  good. 

20  ‘  The  second  o  them  is  a  ploughman  good, 
He  ploughs  the  land  for  his  livelihood. 

21  ‘  The  youngest  of  them  is  an  outlyer  hold, 
Lies  many  a  long  night  in  the  woods 

cold.’ 

22  He  stuck  his  knife  then  into  the  ground, 

He  took  a  long  race,  let  himself  fall  on. 


E 

Kinloch’s  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  212.  From  Mearns- 
shire. 

1  The  Duke  o  Perth  had  three  daughters, 

Elizabeth,  Margaret,  and  fair  Marie  ; 

And  Elizabeth ’s  to  the  greenwud  gane, 

To  pu  the  rose  and  the  fair  lilie. 

2  But  she  hadna  pu’d  a  rose,  a  rose, 

A  double  rose,  but  barely  three, 

Whan  up  and  started  a  Loudon  lord, 

Wi  Loudon  hose,  and  Loudon  sheen. 

3  ‘  Will  ye  be  called  a  robber’s  wife  ? 

Or  will  ye  be  stickit  wi  my  bloody  knife  ? 

For  pu’in  the  rose  and  the  fair  lilie, 

For  pu’in  them  sae  fair  and  free.’ 

4  £  Before  I  ’ll  be  called  a  robber’s  wife, 

I  ’ll  rather  be  stickit  wi  your  bloody  knife, 

For  pu’in,’  etc. 

5  Then  out  he ’s  tane  his  little  pen-knife, 

And  he’s  parted  her  and  her  sweet  life, 

And  thrown  her  oer  a  bank  o  brume, 

There  never  more  for  to  be  found. 

6  The  Duke  o  Perth  had  three  daughters, 

Elizabeth,  Margaret,  and  fair  Marie  ; 

And  Margaret ’s  to  the  greenwud  gane, 

To  pu  the  rose  and  the  fair  lilie. 


7  She  hadna  pu’d  a  rose,  a  rose, 

A  double  rose,  but  barely  three, 

When  up  and  started  a  Loudon  lord, 

Wi  Loudon  hose,  and  Loudon  sheen. 

8  ‘  Will  ye  be  called  a  robber’s  wife  ? 

Or  will  ye  be  stickit  wi  my  bloody  knife  ? 
For  pu’in,’  etc. 

9  ‘  Before  I  ’ll  be  called  a  robber’s  wife, 

I  ’ll  rather  be  stickit  wi  your  bloody  knife, 
For  pu’in,’  etc. 

10  Then  out  he ’s  tane  his  little  pen-knife, 

And  he ’s  parted  her  and  her  sweet  life, 
For  pu’in,  etc. 

4  11  The  Duke  o  Perth  had  three  daughters, 

Elizabeth,  Margaret,  and  fair  Marie  ; 
And  Mary ’s  to  the  greenwud  gane, 

To  pu  the  rose  and  the  fair  lilie. 

12  She  hadna  pu’d  a  rose,  a  rose, 

A  double  rose,  but  barely  three, 

When  up  and  started  a  Loudon  lord, 

Wi  Loudon  hose,  and  Loudon  sheen. 

13  ‘  0  will  ye  be  called  a  robber’s  wife  ? 

Or  will  ye  be  stickit  wi  my  bloody  knife  ? 
For  pu’in,’  etc. 

14  ‘  Before  I  ’ll  be  called  a  robber’s  wife, 

I  ’ll  rather  be  stickit  wi  your  bloody  knife, 
For  pu’in,’  etc. 


15.  LEESOME  BRAND 


177 


15  But  just  as  he  took  out  his  knife, 

To  tak  frae  her  her  ain  sweet  life, 
Her  brother  John  cam  ryding  bye, 
And  this  bloody  robber  he  did  espy. 

16  But  when  he  saw  his  sister  fair, 

He  keirnd  her  by  her  yellow  hair ; 
He  calld  upon  his  pages  three, 

To  find  this  robber  speedilie. 


A.  a.  “  Given  from  two  copies  obtained  from  reci¬ 
tation,  which  differ  hut  little  from  each  other. 
Indeed,  the  only  variation  is  in  the  verse 
where  the  outlawed  brother  unweetingly  slays 
his  sister.”  [19.]  Motherwell. 

b.  19.  He ’s  taken  out  his  wee  penknife, 

Hey  how  bonnie 

And  he ’s  twined  her  o  her  ain  sweet  life. 
On  the,  etc. 

c.  The  first  stanza  only  : 

There  were  three  sisters  livd  in  a  bower, 
Fair  Annet  and  Margaret  and  Marjorie 
And  they  went  out  to  pu  a  flower. 

And  the  dew  draps  off  the  hyndberry  tree 

B.  a.  “  To  a  wild  melancholy  old  tune  not  in  any 

collection.” 

“  N.  B.  There  are  a  great  many  other  verses 
which  I  could  not  recover.  Upon  describing 


17  ‘  My  sisters  twa  that  are  dead  and  gane, 
For  whom  w'e  made  a  heavy  maene, 

It ’s  you  that ’s  twinnd  them  o  their  life, 
And  wi  your  cruel  bloody  knife. 

18  ‘  Then  for  their  life  ye  sair  shall  dree  ; 
Ye  sail  be  liangit  on  a  tree, 

Or  thrown  into  the  poisond  lake, 

To  feed  the  toads  and  rattle-snake.’ 


her  brothers,  the  banished  man  finds  that  he 
has  killed  his  two  brothers  and  two  sisters,  — 
upon  which  he  kills  himself.”  Herd. 

22.  MS.  Quhen.  41,  42,  52,  121,  122,  132,  142. 
ye,  your,  yet,  MS.  ze,  zour,  zet.  8,  9,  10 
are  not  written  out. 

b.  “  Of  this  I  have  got  only  14  stanzas,  but 
there  are  many  more.  It  is  a  horrid  story. 
The  banished  man  discovers  that  he  has  killed 
two  of  his  brothers  and  his  three  (?)  sisters, 
upon  which  he  kills  himself.”  Jamieson. 

The  first  two  stanzas  only  are  cited  by  Jamieson. 
I1.  three  sisters.  22.  up  there  started. 

C.  7-11  and  122  are  not  written  out  in  the  MS. 

“  Repeat  as  to  the  second  sister,  mutatis  mu¬ 
tandis.”  Motherwell. 

D.  9-13  are  not  written  out  in  the  MS.  “  Same 

as  1st  sister.”  Motherwell. 

142.  bring  her. 

15, 16  are  not  written  out.  “  Same  as  1st  and 
2d  sisters,  but  this  additional,  viz1.”  M. 

222.  longe,  or  large  ? 


15 

LEESOME  BRAND 


A.  ‘  Leesome  Brand.’  a.  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North  B.  ‘The  Broom  blooms  bbnnie,’  etc.,  Motherwell’s  MS., 
of  Scotland,  i,  38.  b.  Motherwell’s  MS^.,  p.  626.  p.  365. 


This  is  one  of  the  cases  in  which  a  remark¬ 
ably  fine  ballad  has  been  worse  preserved  in 
Scotland  than  anywhere  else.  Without  light 
from  abroad  we  cannot  fully  understand  even 
so  much  as  we  have  saved,  and  with  this  light 
comes  a  keen  regret  for  what  we  have  lost. 

23 


.  A,  from  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North  of 
Scotland,  is  found  also  in  Motherwell’s  MS., 
but  without  doubt  was  derived  from  Buchan. 
Though  injured  by  the  commixture  of  foreign 
elements,  A  has  still  much  of  the  original 
story.  B  has,  on  the  contrary,  so  little  that 


178 


15.  LEESOME  BRAND 


distinctively  and  exclusively  belongs  to  tliis 
story  that  it  might  almost  as  well  have  been 
put  with  the  following  ballad,  ‘  Sheath  and 
Knife,’  as  here.  A  third  ballad,  4  The  Birth 
of  Robin  Hood,’  preserves  as  much  of  the 
story  as  A,  but  in  an  utterly  incongruous  and 
very  modern  setting,  being,  like  1  Erlinton,’ 
C,  forced  into  an  absurd  Robin  Hood  frame¬ 
work. 

The  mixture  of  four-line  with  two-line 
stanzas  in  A  of  course  comes  from  different 
ballads  having  been  blended,  but  for  all  that, 
these  ballads  might  have  had  the  same  theme. 
Stanzas  38-85,  however,  are  such  as  we  meet 
with  in  ballads  of  the  ‘  Earl  Brand  ’  class,  but 
not  in  those  of  the  class  to  which  ‘  Leesome 
Brand  ’  belongs.  In  the  English  ballads,  and 
nearly  all  the  Danish,  of  the  former  class, 
there  is  at  least  a  conversation  between  son 
and  mother  [father],  whereas  in  the  other  the 
catastrophe  excludes  such  a  possibility.  Again, 
the  44  unco  land  ”  in  the  first  stanza,  “  where 
winds  never  blew  nor  cocks  ever  crew,”  is  at 
least  a  reminiscence  of  the  paradise  depicted 
in  the  beginning  of  many  of  the  versions  of 
‘  Ribold  and  Guldborg,’  and  stanza  4  of  ‘  Lee¬ 
some  Brand  ’  closely  resembles  stanza  2  of 
‘  Earl  Brand,’  A.*  Still,  the  first  and  fourth 
stanzas  suit  one  ballad  as  well  as  the  other, 
which  is  not  true  of  33-35. 

The  name  Leesome  Brand  may  possibly  be 
a  corruption  of  Hildebrand,  as  Earl  Brand 
almost  certainly  is ;  but  a  more  likely  origin 
is  the  Gysellannd  of  one  of  the  kindred  Dan¬ 
ish  ballads. 

The  white  hind,  stanzas  28,  30,  is  met  with 
in  no  other  ballad  of  this  class,  and,  besides 
this,  the  last  four  stanzas  are  in  no  kind  of 
keeping  with  what  goes  before,  for  the  “  young 
son  ”  is  spoken  of  as  having  been  first  brought 
home  at  some  previous  period.  Grundtvig  has 
suggested  that  the  hind  and  the  blood  came 
from  a  lost  Scottish  ballad  resembling  4  The 
Maid  Transformed  into  a  Hind,’  D.  g.  F,  No 
58.  In  this  ballad  a  girl  begs  her  brother, 
who  is  going  hunting,  to  spare  the  little  hind 
that  “  plays  before  his  foot.”  The  brother 

*  And  also  stanza  3  of  Buchan’s  ‘  Fairy  Knight/  ‘  The 
Elfin  Knight/  D,  p.  17  of  this  volume,  which  runs : 


nevertheless  shoots  the  hind,  though  not  mor¬ 
tally,  and  sets  to  work  to  flay  it,  in  which 
process  he  discovers  his  sister  under  the  hind’s 
hide.  His  sister  tells  him  that  she  had  been 
successively  changed  into  a  pair  of  scissors,  a 
sword,  a  hare,  a  hind,  by  her  step-mother,  and 
that  she  was  not  to  be  free  of  the  spell  until 
she  had  drunk  of  her  brother’s  blood.  Her 
brother  at  once  cuts  his  fingers,  gives  her  some 
of  his  blood,  and  the  girl  is  permanently  re¬ 
stored  to  her  natural  shape,  and  afterwards  is 
happily  married.  Stanzas  similar  to  36-41  of 
A  and  12-16  of  B  will  be  found  in  the  ballad 
which  follows  this,  to  which  they  are  especially 
well  suited  by  their  riddling  character ;  and  I 
believe  that  they  belong  there,  and  not  here. 
It  is  worthy  of  remark,  too,  that  there  is  a 
hind  in  another  ballad,  closely  related  to  No 
16  (4  The  Bonny  Hind  ’),  and  that  the  hind 
in  4  Leesome  Brand  ’  may,  in  some  way  not 
now  explicable,  have  come  from  this.  The 
confounding  of  4  Leesome  Brand  ’  with  a  bal¬ 
lad  of  the  4  Bonny  Hind  ’  class  would  be  par¬ 
alleled  in  Danish,  for  in  4  Redselille  og  Me- 
delvold  ’  T  (and  perhaps  I,  see  Grundtvig’s 
note,  v,  237),  the  knight  is  the  lady’s  brother. 

The  44  auld  son  ”  in  B,  like  the  first  bring¬ 
ing  home  of  the  young  son  in  A  45,  47,  shows 
how  completely  the  proper  story  has  been  lost 
sight  of.  There  should  be  no  son  of  any  de¬ 
scription  at  the  point  at  which  this  stanza 
comes  in,  and  auld  son  should  everywhere  be 
young  son.  The  best  we  can  do,  to  make 
sense  of  stanza  3,  is  to  put  it  after  8,  with 
the  understanding  that  woman  and  child  are 
carried  off  for  burial ;  though  really  there  is 
no  need  to  move  them  on  that  account.  The 
shooting  of  the  child  is  unintelligible  in  the 
mutilated  state  of  the  ballad.  It  is  apparently 
meant  to  be  an  accident.  Nothing  of  the 
kind  occurs  in  other  ballads  of  the  class,  and 
the  divergence  is  probably  a  simple  corrup¬ 
tion. 

The  ballad  which  4  Leesome  Brand  ’  repre¬ 
sents  is  preserved  among  the  Scandinavian 
races  under  four  forms. 

Danish.  I.  4  Bolde  Hr.  Nilaus’  Lon,’  a 

I  hae  a  sister  eleven  years  auld, 

And  she  to  the  young  men’s  bed  has  made  bauld. 


15.  LEESOME  BRAND  ' 


179 


single  copy  from  a  manuscript  of  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  the  17th  century:  Grundtvig,  v,  231, 
No  270.  II.  ‘  Iledselille  og  Medelvold,’  in  an 
all  but  unexampled  number  of  versions,  of 
which  some  sixty  are  collated,  and  some  twen¬ 
ty-five  printed,  by  Grundtvig,  most  of  them 
recently  obtained  from  tradition,  and  the  old¬ 
est  a  broadside  of  about  the  year  1770: 
Grundtvig,  v,  234,  No  271.  III.  ‘  Sonnens 
Sorg,’  Grundtvig,  V,  289,  No  272,  two  ver¬ 
sions  only  :  A  from  the  middle  of  the  16th 
century ;  B  three  hundred  years  later,  pre¬ 
viously  printed  in  Berggreen’s  Danske  Folke- 
sange,  I,  No  83  (3d  ed.).  IV.  ‘  Stalbroders 
Kvide,’  Grundtvig,  v,  301,  No  273,  two  ver¬ 
sions  :  A  from  the  beginning  of  the  17th  cen¬ 
tury,  B  from  about  1570. 

Swedish.  II.  A,  broadside  of  1776,  re¬ 
printed  in  Grundtvig,  No  271,  V,  281,  Bilag 
1,  and  in  Jamieson’s  Illustrations,  p.  373  ff, 
with  a  translation.  B,  ‘  Herr  Redevall,’  Af- 
zelius,  n,  189,  No  58,  new  ed.  No  51.  C, 
‘  Krist’  Lilia  och  Herr  Tideman,’  Arwidsson, 
I,  352,  No  54  A.  D,  E,  F,  G,  from  Caval- 
lius  and  Stephens’  manuscript  collection,  first 
printed  by  Grundtvig,  No  271,  v,  282  ff,  Bilag 
2-5.  H,  ‘Rosa  lilla,’  Eva  Wigstrom,  Folk- 
visor  fran  Sk&ne,  in  Ur  de  nordiska  Folkens 
Lif,  af  Artur  Hazelius,  p.  133,  No  8.  III.  A 
single  version,  of  date  about  1650,  ‘  Moder 
och  Son,’  Arwidsson,  n,  15,  No  70. 

Norwegian.  II.  Six  versions  and  a  frag¬ 
ment,  from  recent  tradition :  A-E,  G,  first 
printed  by  Grundtvig,  No  271,  Y,  284  ff,  Bilag 
6-11 ;  F,  ‘  Grivilja,’  in  Lindeman’s  Norske 
Fjeldmelodier,  No  121.  III.  Six  versions  from 
recent  tradition,  A-F,  first  printed  by  Grundt¬ 
vig,  No  272,  v,  297  ff,  Bilag  1-6. 

Icelandic.  III.  ‘  Sonar  harmur,’  Islenzk 
ForukvaeSi,  I,  140  ff,  No  17,  three  versions, 
A,  B,  C,  the  last,  which  is  the  oldest,  being 
from  late  in  the  17th  century;  also  the  first 
stanza  of  a  fourth,  D. 

All  the  Scandinavian  versions  are  in  two- 
line  stanzas  save  Danish  272  B,  and  A  in  part, 
and  Icelandic  17  C,  which  are  in  four  ;  the 
last,  however,  in  stanzas  of  two  couplets. 

It  will  be  most  convenient  to  give  first  a 
summary  of  the  story  of  ‘  Redselille  og  Me- 


delvold,’  and  to  notice  the  chief  divergences 
of  the  other  ballads  afterwards.  A  mother 
and  her  daughter  are  engaged  in  weaving 
gold  tissue.  The  mother  sees  milk  running 
from  the  girl’s  breasts,  and  asks  an  explana¬ 
tion.  After  a  slight  attempt  at  evasion,  the 
daughter  confesses  that  she  has  been  beguiled 
by  a  knight.  The  mother  threatens  botli  with 
punishment :  he  shall  be  hanged  [burned, 
broken  on  the  wheel,  sent  out  of  the  country, 
i.  e.,  sold  into  servitude],  and  she  sent  away 
[broiled  on  a  gridiron,  burned,  drowned]. 
Some  copies  begin  further  back,  with  a  stanza 
or  two  in  which  we  are  told  that  the  knight 
has  served  in  the  king’s  court,  and  gained  the 
favor  of  the  king’s  daughter.  Alarmed  by 
her  mother’s  threats,  the  maid  goes  to  her  lov¬ 
er’s  house  at  night,  and  after  some  difficulty  in 
effecting  an  entrance  (a  commonplace,  like  the 
ill-boding  milk  above)  informs  him  of  the  fate 
that  awaits  them.  The  knight  is  sufficiently 
prompt  now,  and  bids  her  get  her  gold  to¬ 
gether  while  he  saddles  his  horse.  They  ride 
away,  with  [or  without]  precautions  against 
discovery,  and  come  to  a  wood.  Four  Nor¬ 
wegian  versions,  A,  B,  C,  G,  and  also  two  Ice¬ 
landic  versions,  A,  B,  of  c  Sonnens  Sorg,’  in¬ 
terpose  a  piece  of  water,  and  a  difficulty  in 
crossing,  owing  to  the  ferryman’s  refusing 
help  or  the  want  of  oars ;  but  this  passage  is 
clearly  an  infiltration  from  a  different  story. 
Arriving  at  the  wood,  the  maid  desires  to  rest 
a  while.  The  customary  interrogation  does 
not  fail,  —  whether  the  way  is  too  long  or  the 
saddle  too  small.  The  knight  lifts  her.  off  the 
horse,  spreads  his  cloak  for  her  on  the  grass, 
and  she  gives  way  to  her  anguish  in  such  ex¬ 
clamations  as  “  My  mother  had  nine  women  : 
would  that  I  had  the  worst  of  them  !  ”  “  My 
mother  would  never  have  been  so  angry  with 
me  but  she  would  have  helped  me  in  this 
strait !  n  Most  of  the  Danish  versions  make 
the  knight  offer  to  bandage  his  eyes  and  ren¬ 
der  such  service  asy  a  man  may ;  but  she  re¬ 
plies  that  she  would  rather  die  than  that  man 
should  knotf'of  woman’s  pangs.  So  Swedish 
H,  nearly.  Partly  to  secure  privacy,  and 
partly  from  thirst,  she  expresses  a  wish  for 
water,  and  her  lover  goes  in  search  of  some. 


180 


15.  LEESOME  BRAND 


(This  in  nearly  all  the  Danish  ballads,  and 
many  of  the  others.  But  in  four  of  the  Nor¬ 
wegian  versions  of  ‘  Sonnens  Sorg  ’  the  lover 
is  told  to  go  and  amuse  himself,  much  as  in 
our  ballads.)  When  he  comes  to  the  spring 
or  the  brook,  there  sits  a  nightingale  and 
sings.  Two  nightingales,  a  small  bird,  a  voice 
from  heaven,  a  small  dwarf,  an  old  man,  re¬ 
place  the  nightingale  in  certain  copies,  and  in 
others  there  is  nothing  at  all ;  but  the  great 
majority  has  a  single  nightingale,  and,  as 
Grundtvig  points  out,  the  single  bird  is  right, 
for  the  bird  is  really  a  vehicle  for  the  soul  of 
the  dead  Redselille.  The  nightingale  sings, 
“  Redselille  lies  dead  in  the  wood,  with  two 
sons  [son  and  daughter]  in  her  bosom.”  All 
that  the  nightingale  has  said  is  found  to 
be  true.  According  to  Danish  O  and  Swedish 

C,  the  knight  finds  the  lady  and  a  child,  ac¬ 
cording  to  Swedish  B  and  Norwegian  A,  B,  C, 
the  lady  and  two  sons,  dead.  In  Danish  B, 
L  (as  also  the  Icelandic  ‘  Sonar  Harmur,’  A, 
B,  and  Danish  ‘  Stalbroders  Ivvide,’  A)  the 
knight  digs  a  grave,  and  lays  mother  and  chil¬ 
dren  in  it ;  he  lays  himself  with  them  in  A 
and  M.  It  is  not  said  whether  the  children 
are  dead  or  living,  and  the  point  would  hardly 
be  raised  but  for  what  follows.  In  Danish 

D,  P  and  Swedish  F,  it  is  expressly  mentioned 
that  the  children  are  alive ,  and  in  Q,  R,  S,  T, 
U,  six  copies  of  V,  and  Y,  and  also  in  4  Bolde 
Hr.  Nilaus’  Lon,’  and  in  4  Sonnens  Sorg,’  Dan¬ 
ish  A,  Norwegian  A,  C,  D,  E,  the  children 
are  heard,  or  seem  to  be  heard,  shrieking  from 
under  the  ground.  Nearly  all  the  versions 
make  the  knight  run  himself  through  with 
his  sword,  either  immediately  after  the  others 
are  laid  in  the  grave,  or  after  he  has  ridden 
far  and  wide,  because  he  cannot  endure  the 
cries  of  the  children  from  under  the  earth. 
This  would  seem  to  be  the  original  conclusion 
of  the  story  ;  the  horrible  circumstance  of  the 
children  being  buried  alive  is  much  more 
likely  to  be  slurred  over  or  omitted  at  a  later 
day  than  to  be  added. 

We  may  pass  over  in  silence  the  less  im¬ 
portant  variations  in  the  very  numerous  ver¬ 
sions  of  4  Redselille  and  Medelvold,’  nor  need 
we  be  detained  long  by  the  other  three  Scan¬ 


dinavian  forms  of  the  ballad.  4  Sonnens  Sorg’ 
stands  in  the  same  relation  to  4  Redselille  and 
Medelvold  ’  as  4  Hildebrand  and  Hilde,’  does 
to  4  Ribold  and  Guldborg  ’  (see  p.  89  of  this 
volume)  ;  that  is,  the  story  is  told  in  the  first 
person  instead  of  the  third.  A  father  asks  his 
son  why  he  is  so  sad,  Norwegian  A,  B,  C,  D, 
Icelandic  A,  B,  C,  D.  Five  years  has  he  sat 
at  his  father's  board,  and  never  uttered  a  merry 
word.  The  son  relates  the  tragedy  of  his  life. 
He  had  lived  in  his  early  youth  at  the  house 
of  a  nobleman,  who  had  three  daughters.  He 
was  on  very  familiar  terms  with  all  of  them, 
and  the  youngest  loved  him.  When  the  time 
came  for  him  to  leave  the  family,  she  proposed 
that  he  should  take  her  with  him,  Danish  B, 
Icelandic  A,  B,  C  [he  makes  the  proposal  in' 
Norwegian  C].  From  this  point  the  narrative 
is  much  the  same  as  in  4  Redselille  and  Medel¬ 
vold,’  and  at  the  conclusion  he  falls  dead  in 
his  father’s  arms  [at  the  table],  Norwegian  A, 

B,  D,  Icelandic  A.  The  mother  takes  the 
place  of  the  father  in  Danish  B  and  Swedish, 
and  perhaps  it  is  the  mother  who  tells  the 
story  in  English  A,  but  the  bad  condition  of 
the  text  scarcely  enables  us  to  say.  Danish  B 
and  the  Swedish  copy  have  lost  the  middle  and 
end  of  the  proper  story  :  there  is  no  wood,  no  , 
childbirth,  no  burial.  The  superfluous  boat 
of  some  Norwegian  versions  of  4  Redselille  ’  re¬ 
appears  in  these,  and  also  in  Icelandic  A,  B  ; 
it  is  overturned  in  a  storm,  and  the  lady  is 
drowned. 

4  Stalbroders  Ivvide  ’  differs  from  4  Sonnens 
Sorg  ’  only  in  this :  that  the  story  is  related 
to  a  comrade  instead  of  father  or  mother. 

4  Bolde  Fir.  Nilaus’  Lon,’  which  exists  but 
in  a  single  copy,  has  a  peculiar  beginning. 
Sir  Nilaus  has  served  eight  years  in  the  king’s 
court  without  recompense.  He  has,  however, 
gained  the  favor  of  the  king’s  daughter,  who 
tells  him  that  she  is  suffering  much  on  his  ac¬ 
count.  If  this  be  so,  says  Nilaus,  I  will  quit 
the  land  with  speed.  He  is  told  to  wait  till 
she  has  spoken  to  her  mother.  She  goes  to 
her  mother  and  says  :  Sir  Nilaus  has  served 
eight  years,  and  had  no  reward  ;  he  desires 
the  best  that  it  is  in  your  power  to  give.  The 
queen  exclaims,  Fie  shall  never  have  my  only 


15.  LEESOME  BRAND 


181 


daughter’s  hand  !  The  young  lady  immediately 
bids  Nilaus  saddle  his  horse  while  she  collects 
her  gold,  and  from  this  point  we  have  the 
story  of  Redselille. 

Dutch.  Willems,  Oude  vlaemsche  Lieder- 
en,  p.  482,  No  231,  ‘  De  Ruiter  en  Mooi  Elsje ;  ’ 
Hoffmann  v.  Fallersleben,  Niederlandische 
Volkslieder,  2d  ed.,  p.  170,  No  75:  broadside 
of  the  date  1780. 

A  mother  inquires  into  her  daughter’s  con¬ 
dition,  and  learns  that  she  is  going  with  child 
by  a  trooper  (he  is  called  both  ‘  ruiter  ’  and 
‘  landsknecht  ’).  The  conversation  is  overheard 
by  the  other  party,  who  asks  the  girl  whether 
she  will  ride  with  him  or  bide  with  her  mother. 
She  chooses  to  go  with  him,  and  as  they  ride 
is  overtaken  with  pains.  She  asks  whether 
there  is  not  a  house  where  she  can  rest.  The 
soldier  builds  her  a  hut  of  thistles,  thorns, 
and  high  stakes,  and  hangs  his  cloak  over  the 
aperture.  She  asks  him  to  go  away,  and  to 
come  back  when  he  hears  a  cry  :  but  the  maid 
was  dead  ere  she  cried.  The  trooper  laid  his 
head  on  a  stone,  and  his  heart  brake  with 
grief. 

German.  A,  Simrock,  No  40,  p.  92,  ‘Yon 
Farbe  so  bleich,’  from  Bonn  and  Rheindorf, 
repeated  in  Mittler,  No  194.  The  mother,  on 
learning  her  daughter’s  plight,  imprecates  a 
curse  on  her.  The  maid  betakes  herself  to 
her  lover,  a  trooper,  who  rides  off  with  her. 
They  come  to  a  cool  spring,  and  she  begs  for 
a  fresh  drink,  but,  feeling  very  ill,  asks  if  there 
is  no  hamlet  near,  from  which  she  could  have 
woman’s  help.  The  aid  of  the  trooper  is  re¬ 
jected  in  the  usual  phrase,  and  he  is  asked  to 
go  aside,  and  answer  when  called.  If  there 
should  be  no  call,  she  will  be  dead.  There 
was  no  call,  and  she  was  found  to  be  dead, 
with  two  sons  in  her  bosom.  The  trooper 
wrapped  the  children  in  her  apron,  and  dug 
her  grave  with  his  sword.  B,  Reifferscheid, 
Westfalische  Volkslieder,  p.  106,  ‘  Ach  Wun- 
der  iiber  Wunder,’  from  Bokendorf  :  much  the 
same  as  to  the  story.  C,  Mittler,  No  195,  p. 
175,  ‘  Von  Farbe  so  bleich,’  a  fragment  of  a 
copy  from  Hesse  ;  Zuccalmaglio,  p.  187,  No 
90,  ‘  Die  Waisen,’  an  entire  copy,  ostensibly 
from  the  Lower  Rhine,  but  clearly  owing  its 


last  fourteen  stanzas  to  the  editor.  The  trooper, 
in  this  supplement,  leaves  the  boys  with  his 
mother,  and  goes  over  seas.  The  boys  grow 
up,  and  set  out  to  find  their  father.  In  the 
course  of  their  quest,  they  pass  night  in  a 
hut  in  a  wood,  and  are  overheard  saying  a 
prayer  for  their  father  and  dead  mother,  by  a 
person  who  announces  herself  as  their  mater¬ 
nal  grandmother  !  After  this  it  is  not  sur¬ 
prising  that  the  father  himself  should  turn  up 
early  the  next  morning.  The  same  editor, 
under  the  name  of  Montanus,  gives  in  Die 
deutschen  Volksfeste,  p.  45  f,  a  part  of  this 
ballad  again,  with  variations  which  show  his 
hand  beyond  a  doubt.  We  are  here  informed 
that  the  ballad  has  above  a  hundred  stanzas, 
and  that  the  conclusion  is  that  the  grand¬ 
mother  repents  her  curse,  makes  her  peace 
with  the  boys,  and  builds  a  convent. 

French.  Bujeaud,  Chants  et  Chansons  pop¬ 
ulates  des  provinces  de  l’Ouest,  A,  1, 198,  B,  I, 
200,  ‘  J’entends  le  rossignolet.’  A.  This  ballad 
has  suffered  injury  at  the  beginning  and  the 
end,  but  still  preserves  very  well  the  chief 
points  of  the  story.  A  lover  has  promised  his 
mistress  that  after  returning  from  a  long  ab¬ 
sence  he  would  take  her  to  see  his  country. 
While  traversing  a  wood  she  is  seized  with  her 
pains.  The  aid  of  her  companion  is  declined : 
“  Cela  n’est  point  votre  metier.”  She  begs  for 
water.  The  lover  goes  for  some,  and  meets 
a  lark,  who  tells  him  that  he  will  find  his  love 
dead,  with  a  child  in  her  arms.  Two  stanzas 
follow  which  are  to  no  purpose.  B.  The  other 
copy  of  this  ballad  has  a  perverted  instead  of 
a  meaningless  conclusion,  but  this  keeps  some 
traits  that  are  wanting  in  A.  It  is  a  two- 
line  ballad,  with  the  nightingale  in  the  re¬ 
frain  :  “  J’entends  le  rossignolet.”  A  fair 
maid,  walking  with  her  lover,  falls  ill,  and  lies 
down  under  a  thorn.  The  lover  asks  if  he 
shall  go  for  her  mother.  “  She  would  not 
come  :  she  has  a  cruel  heart.”  Shall  I  go  for 
mine  ?  “  Go,  like  the  swallow  !  ”  He  comes 

back  and  finds  his  love  dead,  and  says  he  will 
die  with  his  mistress.  The  absurd  conclusion 
follows  that  she  was  feigning  death  to  test  his 
love. 

The  names  in  the  Scandinavian  ballads,  it 


182 


15.  LEESOME  BRAND 


is  remarked  by  Grundtvig,  v,  242,  291,  are  not 
Norse,  but  probably  of  German  derivation, 
and,  if  such,  would  indicate  a  like  origin  for 
the  story.  The  man’s  name,  for  instance,  in 
the  Danish  ‘  Sonnens  Sorg,’  A,  Gysellannd, 
seems  to  point  to  Gisalbrand  or  Gisalbald, 
German  names  of  the  8th  or  9th  century. 
There  is  some  doubt  whether  this  Gysellannd 
is  not  due  to  a  corruption  arising  in  the  course 
of  tradition  (see  Grundtvig,  v,  302)  ;  but  if 
the  name  may  stand,  it  will  account  for  our 
Leesome  Brand  almost  as  satisfactorily  as 
Hildebrand  does  for  Earl  Brand  in  No  7. 

The  passage  in  which  the  lady  refuses  male 
assistance  during  her  travail  —  found  as  well 
in  almost  all  the  Danish  versions  of  ‘  Redselille 
and  Medelvold,’  in  the  German  and  French, 
and  imperfectly  in  Swedish  D  —  occurs  in 
several  other  English  ballads,  viz.,  ‘  The  Birth 
of  Robin  Hood,’  ‘  Rose  the  Red  and  White 
Lily,’  ‘  Sweet  Willie,’  of  Finlay’s  Scottish  Bal¬ 
lads,  n,  61,  ‘  Burd  Helen,’  of  Buchan,  n,  30, 

‘  Bonnie  Annie,’  No  23.  Nearly  the  whole  of 
the  scene  in  the  wood  is  in  ‘  Wolf dietrich.’ 
Wolfdietrich  finds  a  dead  man  and  a  woman 
naked  to  the  girdle,  who  is  clasping  the  stem 
of  a  tree.  The  man,  who  was  her  husband, 
was  taking  her  to  her  mother’s  house,  where 


A 

a.  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  i,  38.  b. 
Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  626. 

1  My  boy  was  scarcely  ten  years  auld, 

Whan  he  went  to  an  unco  land, 

Where  wind  never  blew,  nor  cocks  ever  crew, 
Ohon  for  my  son,  Leesome  Brand  ! 

2  Awa  to  that  king’s  court  he  went, 

It  was  to  serve  for  meat  an  fee  ; 

Gude  red  gowd  it  was  his  hire, 

And  lang  in  that  king’s  court  stayd  he. 

3  He  hadna  been  in  that  unco  land 

But  only  twallmonths  twa  or  three, 

Till  by  the  glancing  o  his  ee, 

He  gaind  the  love  o  a  gay  ladye. 


her  first  child  was  to  be  born,  when  he  was  at¬ 
tacked  by  the  dragon  Schadesam.  She  was  now 
in  the  third  day  of  her  travail.  Wolfdietrich, 
having  first  wrapped  her  in  his  cloak,  offers  his 
help,  requesting  her  to  tear  a  strip  from  her 
shift  and  bind  it  round  his  eyes.  She  rejects 
his  assistance  in  this  form,  but  sends  him  for 
water,  which  he  brings  in  his  helmet,  but  only 
to  find  the  woman  dead,  with  a  lifeless  child  at 
her  breast.  He  wraps  mother  and  child  in  his 
mantle,  carries  them  to  a  chapel,  and  lays  them 
on  the  altar ;  then  digs  a  grave  with  his  sword, 
goes  for  the  body  of  the  man,  and  buries  all 
three  in  the  grave  he  has  made.  Grimm,  Alt- 
danische  Heldenlieder,  p.  508 ;  Holtzmann, 
Der  grosse  Wolfdietrich,  st.  1587-1611  ;  Ame- 
lung  u.  Jiinicke,*  Ortnit  u.  die  Wolf  dietrich  e, 
ii,  146,  D,  st.  51-75  ;  with  differences,  I,  289, 
B,  st.  842-848 ;  mother  and  child  surviving, 

I,  146,  A,  st.  562-578;  Weber’s  abstract  of 
the  Heldenbuch,  in  Illustrations  of  Northern 
Antiquities,  p.  119,  120. 

‘  Herr  Medelvold,’  a  mixed  text  of  Danish 

II,  Danske  Viser,  No  156,  is  translated  by 
Jamieson,  Illustrations,  p.  377 ;  by  Borrow, 
Romantic  Ballads,  p.  28  (very  ill)  ;  and  by 
Prior,  No  101.  Swedish,  II,  A,  is  translated 
by  Jamieson,  ib.,  p.  373. 


4  This  ladye  was  scarce  eleven  years  auld, 

When  on  her  love  she  was  right  hauld ; 

She  was  scarce  up  to  my  right  knee, 

When  oft  in  bed  wi  men  I ’m  tauld. 

5  But  when  nine  months  were  come  and  gane, 
This  ladye’s  face  turnd  pale  and  wane. 

6  To  Leesome  Brand  she  then  did  say, 

‘In  this  place  I  can  nae  mair  stay. 

7  ‘  Ye  do  you  to  my  father’s  stable, 

Where  steeds  do  stand  baith  wight  and  able. 

8  ‘  Strike  ane  o  them  upo  the  back, 

The  swiftest  will  gie  his  head  a  wap. 

*  Who  suggests,  ii,  xlv,  somewhat  oddly,  that  the  pas¬ 
sage  may  have  been  taken  from  Revelation,  xii,  2  f,  13  f. 


15.  LEESOME  BRAND 


183 


9  ‘Ye  take  him  out  upo  the  green, 

And  get  him  saddled  and  bridled  seen. 

10  ‘  Get  ane  for  you,  anither  for  me, 

And  lat  us  ride  out  ower  the  lee. 

11  ‘  Ye  do  you  to  my  mother’s  coffer, 

And  out  of  it  ye  ’ll  take  my  tocher. 

12  ‘  Therein  are  sixty  thousand  pounds, 
Which  all  to  me  by  right  belongs.’ 

13  He ’s  done  him  to  her  father’s  stable, 
Where  steeds  stood  baith  wicht  and  able. 

14  Then  he  strake  ane  upon  the  back, 

The  swiftest  gae  his  head  a  wap. 

15  He ’s  taen  him  out  upo  the  green, 

And  got  him  saddled  and  bridled  seen. 

16  Ane  for  him,  and  another  for  her,  ' 
To  carry  them  baith  wi  might  and  virr. 

17  He ’s  done  him  to  her  mother’s  coffer, 
And  there  he ’s  taen  his  lover’s  tocher  ; 

18  Wherein  were  sixty  thousand  pound, 
Which  all  to  her  by  right  belongd. 

19  When  they  had  ridden  about  six  mile, 
His  true  love  then  began  to  fail. 

20  ‘  O  wae ’s  me,’  said  that  gay  ladye, 

‘  I  fear  my  back  will  gang  in  three ! 

2 1  ‘  O  gin  I  had  but  a  gude  midwife, 

Here  this  day  to  save  my  life, 

22  ‘  And  ease  me  o  my  misery, 

O  dear,  how  happy  I  woud  be !  ’ 

23  ‘  My  love,  we  ’re  far  frae  ony  town, 
There  is  nae  midwife  to  be  foun. 

24  ‘  But  if  ye  ’ll  be  content  wi  me, 

I  ’ll  do  for  you  what  man  can  dee.’ 

25  1  For  no,  for  no,  this  maunna  be,’ 

W  i  a  sigh,  replied  this  gay  ladye. 

26  ‘  When  I  endure  my  grief  and  pain, 

My  companie  ye  maun  refrain. 


27  ‘  Ye  ’ll  take  your  arrow  and  your  bow, 
And  ye  will  hunt  the  deer  and  roe. 

28  ‘  Be  sure  ye  touch  not  the  white  hynde, 
For  she  is  o  the  woman  kind.’ 

29  He  took  sic  pleasure  in  deer  and  roe, 

Till  he  forgot  his  gay  ladye. 

30  Till  by  it  came  that  milk-white  hynde, 
And  then  he  mind  on  his  ladye  syne. 

31  He  hasted  him  to  yon  greenwood  tree, 
For  to  relieve  his  gay  ladye ; 

32  But  found  his  ladye  lying  dead, 

Likeways  her  young  son  at  her  head. 

33  His  mother  lay  ower  her  castle  wa, 

And  she  beheld  baith  dale  and  down ; 
And  she  beheld  young  Leesome  Brand, 
As  he  came  riding  to  the  town. 

34  ‘  Get  minstrels  for  to  play,’  she  said, 

‘  And  dancers  to  dance  in  my  room ; 
For  here  comes  my  son,  Leesome  Brand, 
And  he  comes  merrilie  to  the  town.’ 

35  ‘  Seek  nae  minstrels  to  play,  mother, 

Nor  dancers  to  dance  in  your  room  ; 
But  tho  your  son  comes,  Leesome  Brand, 
Yet  he  comes  sorry  to  the  town. 

36  ‘  0  I  hae  lost  my  gowden  knife ; 

I  rather  had  lost  my  ain  sweet  life  ! 

37  ‘  And  I  hae  lost  a  better  thing, 

The  gilded  sheath  that  it  was  in.’ 

38  ‘  Are  there  nae  gowdsmiths  here  in  Fife, 
Can  make  to  you  anither  knife  ? 

39  ‘  Are  there  nae  sheath-makers  in  the  land, 
Can  make  a  sheath  to  Leesome  Brand  ?  ’ 

40  ‘  There  are  nae  gowdsmiths  here  in  Fife, 
Can  make  me  sic  a  gowden  knife ; 

41  ‘Nor  nae  sheath-makers  in  the  land, 

Can  make  to  me  a  sheath  again. 

"  42  ‘  There  ne’er  was  man  in  Scotland  born, 
Ordaind  to  be  so  much  forlorn. 


16.  LEESOME  BRAND 


184 


43  ‘  I ’ve  lost  my  ladye  I  lovd  sae  dear, 
Likeways  the  son  she  did  me  hear.’ 

44  1  Put  in  your  hand  at  my  bed  head, 

There  ye  ’ll  find  a  glide  grey  horn  ; 

In  it  three  draps  o’  Saint  Paul’s  ain  blude, 
That  hae  been  there  sin  he  was  born. 

45  i  Drap  twa  o  them  o  your  ladye, 

And  ane  upo  your  little  young  son ; 

Then  as  lively  they  will  be 

As  the  first  night  ye  brought  them  hame.’ 


46  He  put  his  hand  at  her  bed  head, 

And  there  he  found  a  gude  grey  horn, 
Wi  three  draps  o’  Saint  Paul’s  ain  blude, 
That  had  been  there  sin  he  was  born. 

47  Then  he  drappd  twa  on  his  ladye, 

And  ane  o  them  on  his  young  son, 

And  now  they  do  as  lively  he, 

As  the  first  day  he  brought  them  hame. 


B 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  365.  From  the  recitation  of  Agnes 
Lyle,  Kilbarchan. 

1  ‘  There  is  'a  feast  in  your  father’s  house, 

The  broom  blooms  bonnie  and  so  is  it  fair 
It  becomes  you  and  me  to  be  very  douce. 

And  we  ’ll  never  gang  up  to  the  broom  nae 
mair 

2  ‘  You  will  go  to  yon  hill  so  hie  ; 

Take  your  bow  and  your  arrow  wi  thee.’ 

3  He ’s  tane  his  lady  on  his  hack, 

And  his  auld  son  in  his  coat  lap. 

4  ‘  When  ye  hear  me  give  a  cry, 

Ye  ’ll  shoot  your  bow  and  let  me  lye. 

5  ‘  When  ye  see  me  lying  still, 

Throw  away  your  bow  and  come  running  me 
till.’ 

6  When  he  heard  her  gie  the  cry, 

He  shot  his  bow  and  he  let  her  lye. 

7  When  he  saw  she  was  lying  still, 

He  threw  away  his  bow  and  came  running  her 
till. 


A.  b.  I2.  he  came  to.  8.  For  wind  ....  and 
cock  never. 

44.  bed  wi  him. 

52.  His  lady’s. 

222.  would  I  be. 

291.  deer  and  doe.  « 

302.  And  then  on  his  lady  he  did  mind. 


8  It  was  nae  wonder  his  heart  was  sad 
When  he  shot  his  auld  son  at  her  head. 

9  He  houkit  a  grave,  long,  large  and  wide, 

He  buried  his  auld  son  doun  by  her  side. 

10  It  leas  nae  wonder  his  heart  was  sair 

When  he  shooled  the  mools  on  her  yellow 
hair. 

11  1  Oh,’  said  his  father,  ‘  son,  hut  thou  ’rt  sad  ! 

At  our  braw  meeting  you  micht  he  glad.’ 

12  ‘  Oh,’  said  he,  ‘  Father,  I ’ve  lost  my  knife 
I  loved  as  dear  almost  as  my  own  life. 

13  ‘  But  I  have  lost  a  far  better  tiling, 

I  lost  the  sheath  that  the  knife  was  in.’ 

14  ‘  Hold  thy  tongue,  and  mak  nae  din ; 

I  ’ll  buy  thee  a  sheath  and  a  knife  therein.’ 

15  ‘  A’  the  ships  eer  sailed  the  sea 

Neer’ll  bring  such  a  sheath  and  a  knife  to  me. 

16  ‘A’  the  smiths  that  lives  on  land 

Will  neer  bring  such  a  sheath  and  knife  to  my 
hand.’ 


31  h  to  greenwood  tree. 

331.  the  castle  wa. 

341.  Go,  minstrels. 

431.  lady  I ’ve  loved. 

443.  draps  Saint  Paul’s.  4.  That  has. 
452.  little  wee  son. 

B.  21.  Will  you. 


16.  SHEATH  AND  KNIFE 


185 


16 

SHEATH  AND  KNIFE 

A.  a.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  286.  b.  ‘  The  broom  blooms  C.  ‘  The  broom  blooms  bonie,’ Johnson’s  Museum,  No 
bonnie  and  says  it  is  fair,’  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  461. 

p.  189. 

D.  Notes  and  Queries,  First  Series,  v,  345,  one  stanza. 

B.  Sharpe’s  Ballad  Book,  ed.  by  D.  Laing,  p.  159. 


The  three  stanzas  of  this  ballad  which  are 
found  in  the  Musical  Museum  (C)  were  fur¬ 
nished,  it  is  said,  by  Burns.  It  was  first 
printed  in  full  (A  b)  in  Motherwell’s  Min¬ 
strelsy.  Motherwell  retouched  a  verse  here 
and  there  slightly,  to  regulate  the  metre.  A  a 
is  here  given  as  it  stands  in  his  manuscript. 
B  consists  of  some  scattered  verses  as  remem¬ 
bered  by  Sir  W.  Scott. 

The  directions  in  3,  4  receive  light  from  a 
passage  in  ‘  Robin  Hood’s  Death  and  Burial :  ’ 

‘  But  give  me  my  bent  bow  in  my  band, 

And  a  broad  arrow  1  ’ll  let  flee, 


And  where  this  arrow  is  taken  up 
There  shall  my  grave  diggd  be. 

‘  Lay  me  a  green  sod  under  my  head,’  etc. 

Other  ballads  with  a  like  theme  are  ‘  The 
Bonny  Hind,’  further  on  in  this  volume,  and 
the  two  which  follow  it. 

Translated  in  Grundtvig’s  E.  og  s.  Folke- 
viser,  No  49,  p.  308  ;  Wolff’s  Halle  der  Volker, 
i,  64. 


A 

a.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  286.  From  the  recitation  of  Mrs 
King,  Kilbarchan  Parish,  February  9,  1825.  b.  ‘The broom 
blooms  bonnie  and  says  it  is  fair,’  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy, 
p.  189. 

1  It  is  talked  the  warld  all  over, 

The  brume  blooms  bonnie  and  says  it  is  fair 
That  the  king’s  dochter  gaes  wi  child  to  her 
brither. 

And  we  ’ll  never  gang  doun  to  the  brume 
onie  mail* 

2  He ’s  taen  his  sister  doun  to  her  father’s  deer 

park, 

Wi  his  yew-tree  bow  and  arrows  fast  slung  to 
his  back. 

3  ‘Now  when  that  ye  hear  me  gie  a  loud  cry, 
Shoot  frae  thy  bow  an  arrow"  and  there  let  me  lye. 

24 


4  ‘  And  when  that  ye  see  I  am  lying  dead, 

Then  ye  ’ll  put  me  in  a  grave,  wi  a  turf  at  my 

head.’ 

5  Now  when  he  heard  her  gie  a  loud  cry, 

His  silver  arrow  frae  his  bow  he  suddenly  let 

%• 

Now  they  ’ll  never,  etc. 

6  He  has  made  a  grave  that  was  lang  and  was 

deep, 

And  he  has  buried  his  sister,  wi  her  babe  at 
her  feet. 

And  they  ’ll  never,  etc. 

7  And  when  he  came  to  his  father’s  court  hall, 
There  was  music  and  minstrels  and  dancing 

and  all. 

But  they  ’ll  never,  etc. 


186 


16.  SHEATH  AND  KNIFE 


8  ‘  O  Willie,  0  Willie,  what  makes  thee  in  pain  ?  * 
‘  I  have  lost  a  sheath  and  knife  that  I  ’ll  never 

see  again.’ 

For  we  ’ll  never,  etc. 

9  ‘  There  is  ships  o  your  father’s  sailing  on  the  sea 
That  will  bring  as  good  a  sheath  and  a  knife 

unto  thee.’ 


10  ‘  There  is  ships  o  my  father’s  sailing  on  the 
sea, 

But  sic  a  sheath  and  a  knife  they  can  never 
bring  to  me.’ 

Now  we  ’ll  never,  etc. 


B  ■ 

Sharpe’s  Ballad  Book,  ed.  by  D.  Laing,  p.  159  :  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  from  his  recollection  of  a  nursery-maid’s  singing. 

1  Ae  lady  has  whispered  the  other, 

The  broom  grows  bonnie,  the  broom  grows 
fair 

Lady  Margaret ’s  wi  bairn  to  Sir  Richard,  her 
brother. 

And  we  daur  na  gae  doun  to  the  broom  nae 
mair 

***** 


2  1  And  when  ye  hear  me  loud,  loud  cry, 

O  bend  your  bow,  let  your  arrow  fly. 

And  I  daur  na,  etc. 

3  ‘  But  when  ye  see  me  lying  still, 

O  then  you  may  come  and  greet  your  fill.’ 
***** 

4  ‘  It ’s  I  hae  broken  my  little  pen-knife 
That  I  loed  dearer  than  my  life.’ 

And  I  daur  na,  etc. 
***** 

5  ‘  It ’s  no  for  the  knife  that  my  tears  doun  rim, 
But  it’s  a’  for  the  case  that  my  knife  was  kept  in.’ 


c 

Johnson’s  Museum,  No  461. 

1  It ’s  whispered  in  parlour,  it ’s  whispered  in  ha, 
The  broom  blooms  honie,  the  broom  blooms 
fair 

Lady  Marget ’s  wi  child  amang  our  ladies  a’. 
And  she  dare  na  gae  down  to  the  broom  nae 
mair  „ 

D 

Notes  and  Queries,  1st  Series,  v,  345,  communicated  by 
E.  F.  Eimbault. 

1  Ae  king’s  dochter  said  to  anither, 

Broom  blooms  bonnie  an  grows  sae  fair 


b.  Motherwell' s  ‘printed  copy  has  these  varia¬ 

61.  has  houkit. 

tions  : 

62.  babie. 

l1.  It  is  talked,  it  is  talked;  a  variation  found 

71.  came  hame. 

in  the  MS. 

72.  dancing  mang  them  a’ :  this  variation  also 

31.  0  when  .  .  .  loud,  loud  cry. 

in  the  MS. 

32.  an  arrow  frae  thy  bow. 

91,  101.  There  are. 

41.  cauld  and  dead. 

B.  “  I  have  heard  the  1  Broom  blooms  bonnie  ’  sung 

51.  loud,  loud  cry. 

by  our  poor  old  nursery-maid  as  often  as  I  have 

We  ’ll  gae  ride  like  sister  and  brither. 

But  we’ll  never  gae  down  to  the  broom  nae 
mair 


2  One  lady  whisperd  unto  another 

Lady  Marget ’s  wi  child  to  Sir  Richard,  her 
brother. 

***** 

3  ‘  0  when  that  you  hear  my  loud  loud  cry, 
Then  bend  your  bow  and  let  your  arrows  fly. 

For  I  dare  na,’  etc. 


17.  HIND  HORN 


187 


teeth  in  iny  head,  but  after  cudgelling  my 
memory  I  can  make  no  more  than  the  follow¬ 
ing  stanzas.”  Scott,  Sharpe's  Ballad  Book, 
1880,  p.  159. 

Scott  makes  Effie  Deans,  in  The  Heart  of 
Mid-Lothian,  vol.  I,  ch.  10,  sing  this  stanza, 
probably  of  his  own  making  : 


The  elfin  knight  sat  on  the  brae, 

The  broom  grows  bonny,  the  broom  grows 
fair 

And  by  there  came  lilting  a  lady  so  gay. 
And  we  daurna  gang  down  to  the  broom 
nae  mair 


17 


HIND 

A.  ‘  Hindhorn,’  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  106. 

B.  ‘  Young  Hyndhorn,’  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  418. 

C.  a.  ‘  Young  Hyn  Horn,’  Motherwell’s  Note-Book,  p. 
42.  b.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  413. 

D.  ‘  Young  Hynhorn,’  Cromek’s  Select  Scotish  Songs, 
II,  204. 


HORN 

E.  ‘  Hynd  Horn,’  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  91. 

F.  Lowran  Castle,  or  the  Wild  Boar  of  Curridoo:  with 
other  Tales.  By  R.  Trotter,  Dumfries,  1822. 

G.  ‘Hynde  Horn,’  Ivinloch’s  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads, 
p.  135. 

H.  ‘  Hynd  Horn,’  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North  of 
Scotland,  II,  268. 


A  defective  copy  of  this  ballad  was 
printed  in  Cromek’s  Select  Scottish  Songs, 
Ancient  and  Modern,  1810  (D).  A  fragment, 
comprising  the  first  half  of  the  story,  was  in¬ 
serted  in  “  Lowran  Castle,  or  the  Wild  Boar 
of  Curridoo  :  with  other  Tales,”  etc.,  by  Rob¬ 
ert  Trotter,  Dumfries,  1822  *  (F).  A  com¬ 
plete  copy  was  first  given  in  Kinloch’s  Ancient 
Scottish  Ballads,  1827  (G)  ;  another,  described 
by  the  editor  as  made  up  from  Cromek’s  frag¬ 
ment  and  two  copies  from  recitation,  in  Moth¬ 
erwell’s  Minstrelsy,  p.  86, f  later  in  the  same 
year ;  and  a  third,  closely  resembling  Kin¬ 
loch’s,  in  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North  of 
Scotland,  in  1828  (H).  Three  versions  com¬ 
plete,  or  nearly  so,  and  a  fragment  of  a  fourth 
are  now  printed  for  the  first  time,  all  from 
Motherwell’s  manuscripts  (A,  B,  C,  E). 

The  stanza  about  the  auger  bore  [wimble 


bore],  B  1,  F  3,  H  4,  is  manifestly  out  of 
place.  It  is  found  in  ‘  The  Whummil  Bore  ’ 
(see  further  on),  and  may  have  slipped  into 
‘  Hind  Horn  ’  by  reason  of  its  following,  in  its 
proper  place,  a  stanza  beginning,  “  Seven  lang 
years  I  hae  served  the  king  :  ”  cf.  F  2,  H  3. 

G  17,  18,  21,  22,  .which  are  not  intelligible 
in  their  present  connection,  are  perhaps,  as 
well  as  G  16,  H  18-20,  borrowed  from  some 
Robin  Hood  ballad,  in  which  a  change  is  made 
with  a  beggar. 

The  noteworthy  points  in  the  story  of  Hind 
Horn  are  these.  Hind  Horn  has  served  the 
king  seven  years  (D,  F),  and  has  fallen  in  love 
with  his  daughter.  She  gives  Hind  Horn  a 
jewelled  ring :  as  long  as  the  stone  keeps  its 
color,  he  may  know  that  she  is  faithful ;  but  if 
it  changes  hue,  he  may  ken  she  loves  another 
man.  The  king  is  angry  (D),  and  Hind  Horn 


*  This  I  should  have  missed  but  for  the  kindness  of  Mr  *  E.  23  =  A  14.  10,  21,  22,  29,  have  not  been  found  in  his 

W.  Macmath.  manuscripts.  The  first  line  of  the  burden  is  from  B,  the 

t  Motherwell’s  printed  copy,  Minstrelsy,  p.  36,  is  thus  second  from  E.  Motherwell  alters  his  texts  slightly,  now 
made  up  :  stanzas  1,  2,  3,  8,  15,  from  Cromek  (D) ;  4-7,  9,  and  then. 

11,  13,  14,  16,  19,  20,  24-28,  30-37,  from  B  ;  12,  17,  18  from 


188 


17.  HIND  HORN 


goes  to  sea  [is  sent,  D] .  He  has  been  gone 
seven  years,  E,  F  [seven  years  and  a  day,  B], 
when,  looking  on  his  ring,  he  sees  that  the 
stone  is  pale  and  wan,  A-H.  He  makes  for 
the  land  at  once,  and,  meeting  an  old  beggar, 
asks  him  for  news.  No  news  but  the  king’s 
daughter’s  wedding  :  it  has  lasted  nine  days 
[two  and  forty,  A],  and  she  will  not  go  into 
the  bride-bed  till  she  hears  of  Hind  Horn,  E. 
Hind  Horn  changed  cloaks  and  other  gear 
with  the  beggar,  and  when  he  came  to  the 
king’s  gate  asked  for  a  drink  in  Horn’s  name,* 
A,  B,  D.  The  bride  herself  came  down,  and 
gave  him  a  drink  out  of  her  own  hand,  A,  B, 
C,  G,  H.  He  drank  out  the  drink  and  dropped 
in  the  ring. 

4  O  gat  ye ’t  by  sea,  or  gat  ye ’t  by  lan, 

Or  gat  ye ’t  aff  a  dead  man’s  han  ?  ’ 

So  she  asked  ;  and  he  answered  : 

4  I  gat  na  ’t  by  sea,  I  gat  na  ’t  by  lan, 

But  I  gat  it  out  of  your  own  han.’  D  14. 

4  I  got  na ’t  by  sea,  I  got  na ’t  by  land, 

Nor  got  I  it  aff  a  drownd  man’s  hand  ; 

4  But  I  got  it  at  my  wooing, 

And  I  ’ll  gie  it  at  your  wedding.’  G  29,  30. 

The  bride,  who  had  said, 

4 1  ’ll  go  through  nine  fires  so  hot, 

But  I  ’ll  give  him  a  drink  for  Young  Hyn- 
horn’s  sake,’  B  16, 

is  no  less  ready  now  : 

4 1  ’ll  tak  the  red  gowd  frae  my  head, 

And  follow  you  and  beg  my  bread. 

4 1  ’ll  tak  the  red  gowd  frae  my  hair, 

And  follow  you  for  evermair.’  H  31,  32. 

But  Hind  Horn  let  his  cloutie  cloak  fall,  G, 
H,  and  told  her, 


4  Ye  need  na  leave  your  bridal  gown, 

For  I  ’ll  make  ye  ladie  o  many  a  town.’ 

The  story  of  Horn,  of  which  this  ballad  gives 
little  more  than  the  catastrophe,  is  related  at 
full  in 

I.  4  King  Horn,’  a  gest  in  about  1550  short 

verses,  preserved  in  three  manuscripts :  the 
oldest  regarded  as  of  the  second  half  of  the 
13th  century,  or  older ;  the  others  put  at 
1300  and  a  little  later.  All  three  have  been 
printed :  (1.)  By  Michel,  Horn  et  Rimenhild, 
p.  259  ff,  Bannatyne  Club,  1845  ;  J.  R.  Lum- 
by,  Early  English  Text  Society,  1866  ;  and  in 
editions  founded  on  Lumby’s  text,  by  Matz- 
ner,  Altenglische  Sprachproben,  p.  270  ff, 
and  later  by  Wissmann,  Quellen  u.  Forsch- 
ungen,  No  45.  (2.)  By  Horstmann,  Archiv 

fur  das  Studium  der  neueren  Sprachen,  1872, 
l,  39  ff.  (3.)  By  Ritson,  A.  E.  Metrical  Ro- 
mancees,  n,  91  If. 

II.  4  Horn  et  Rymenhild,’  a  romance  in 
about  5250  heroic  verses,  preserved  likewise 
in  three  manuscripts  ;  the  best  in  the  Public 
Library  of  the  University  of  Cambridge,  and 
of  the  14th  century. 

III.  4  Horn  Childe  and  Maiden  Rimnild,’ 
from  a  manuscript  of  the  14th  century,  in  not 
quite  100  twelve-line  stanzas  :  Ritson,  Metrical 
Romancees,  hi,  282  ff ;  Michel,  p.  341  ff. 

Horn,  in  the  old  English  gest ,  is  son  of 
Murry  [Allof],  king  of  Suddenne.  He  is  a 
youth  of  extraordinary  beauty,  and  has  twelve 
comrades,  of  whom  Athulf  and  Fikenild  are 
his  favorites.  One  day,  as  Murry  was  out  rid¬ 
ing,  he  came  upon  fifteen  ships  of  Saracens, 
just  arrived.  The  pagans  slew  the  king,  and 
insured  themselves,  as  they  thought,  against 
Horn’s  future  revenge  by  putting  him  and  his 
twelve  aboard  a  vessel  without  sail  or  rudder ; 
but 44  the  children  ”  drove  to  shore,  unhurt,  on 
the  coast  of  W esterness.  The  king,  Ailmar, 
gave  them  a  kind  reception,  and  committed 
them  to  Athelbrus,  his  steward,  to  be  properly 
brought  up.  Rymenhild,  the  king’s  daughter, 


*  C  16, 17  are  corrupted,  and  also  F  19, 23,  G  21 ;  all  three  in  G,  H  should  be  to  ask  nothing  for  Peter  or  Paul’s  sake, 

in  a  way  which  allows  of  easy  emendation.  Hymen  [high,  but  all  for  Horn’s, 

man]  in  C  should  of  course  be  Hyn  Horn.  The  injunction 


17.  HIND  HORN 


189 


fell  in  love  with  Horn,  and  having,  with  some 
difficulty,  prevailed  upon  Athelbrus  to  bring 
him  to  her  bower,  offered  herself  to  him  as 
his  wife.  It  were  no  fair  wedding,  Horn  told 
her,  between  a  thrall  and  a  king,  —  a  speech 
which  hurt  Rymenhild  greatly  ;  and  Horn  was 
so  moved  by  her  grief  that  he  promised  to  do 
all  she  required,  if  she  would  induce  the  king 
to  knight  him.  This  was  done  the  next  day, 
and  Horn  at  once  knighted  all  his  comrades. 
Rymenhild  again  sent  for  Horn,  and  urged 
him  now  to  make  her  his  wife.  But  Horn 
said  he  must  first  prove  his  knighthood :  if  he 
came  back  alive,  he  would  then  marry  her. 
Upon  this  Rymenhild  gave  him  a  ring,  set 
with  stones  of  such  virtue  that  he  could  never 
be  slain  if  he  looked  on  it  and  thought  of  his 
leman.  The  young  knight  had  the  good  for¬ 
tune  to  fall  in  immediately  with  a  ship  full 
of  heathen  hounds,  and  by  the  aid  of  his  ring 
killed  a  hundred  of  the  best  of  them.  The 
next  day  he  paid  Rymenhild  a  visit,  and  found 
her  drowned  in  grief  on  account  of  a  bad 
dream.  She  had  cast  her  net  in  the  sea,  and 
a  great  fish  had  broken  it :  she  weened  she 
should  lose  the  fish  that  she  would  choose. 
Horn  strove  to  comfort  her,  but  could  not  con¬ 
ceal  his  apprehension  that  trouble  was  brew¬ 
ing.  The  fish  proved  to  be  Fikenild,  Horn’s 
much  cherished  friend.  He  told  Ailmar  of 
the  intimacy  with  Rymenhild,  and  asserted 
that  Horn  meant  to  kill  the  king  as  well  as 
marry  the  princess.  Ailmar  was  very  angry 
(v.  724,  Wissmann),  and  much  grieved,  too. 
He  found  the  youth  in  his  daughter’s  bower, 
and  ordered  him  to  quit  the  land  anon.  Horn 
saddled  his  horse  and  armed  himself,  then 
went  back  to  Rymenhild,  and  told  her  that  he 
was  going  to  a  strange  land  for  seven  years  : 
if,  after  that,  he  neither  came  nor  sent  word, 
she  might  take  a  husband.  He  sailed  a  good 
way  eastward  (v.  799)  to  Ireland,  and,  land¬ 
ing,  met  two  princes,  who  invited  him  to  take 
service  with  their  father.  The  king,  Thurs¬ 
ton,  welcomed  him,  and  had  soon  occasion  to 
employ  him  ;  for  at  Christmas  came  into  court 
a  giant,  with  a  message  from  pagans  newly 
arrived.  They  proposed  that  one  of  them 
should  fight  three  Christians  : 


‘  If  your  three  slay  our  one, 

Let  all  this  land  be  your  own ; 

If  our  one  oercomes  your  three, 

All  this  land  then  ours  shall  be.’ 

Horn  scorned  to  fight  on  such  terms  ;  he 
alone  would  undertake  three  of  the  hounds ; 
and  so  he  did.  In  the  course  of  a  hard  fight 
it  came  out  that  these  were  the  very  heathen 
that  had  slain  King  Murry.  Horn  looked  on 
his  ring  and  thought  on  Rymenhild,  then  fell 
on  his  foes.  Not  a  man  of  them  escaped ;  but 
King  Thurston  lost  many  men  in  the  fight, 
among  them  his  two  sons.  Having  now  no 
heir,  he  offered  Horn  his  daughter  Reynild 
and  the  succession.  Horn  replied  that  he  had 
not  earned  such  a  reward  yet.  He  would 
serve  the  king  further  ;  and  when  he  asked 
for  his  daughter,  he  hoped  the  king  would  not 
refuse  her. 

Seven  years  Horn  stayed  with  King  Thurs¬ 
ton,  and  to  Rymenhild  neither  sent  nor  went. 
A  sorry  time  it  was  for  her,  and  worst  at  the 
end,  for  King  Modi  of  Reynis  asked  her  in 
marriage,  and  her  father  consented.  The  wed¬ 
ding  was  to  be  in  a  few  days.  Rymenhild 
despatched  messengers  to  every  land,  but  Horn 
heard  nothing,  till  one  day,  when  he  was  going 
out  to  shoot,  he  encountered  one  of  these,  and 
learned  how  things  stood.  He  sent  word  to 
his  love  not  to  be  troubled  ;  he  would  be  there 
betimes.  But,  alas,  the  messenger  was  drowned 
on  his  way  back,  and  Rymenhild,  peering  out 
of  her  door  for  a  ray  of  hope,  saw  his  body 
washed  up  by  the  waves.  Horn  now  made  a 
clean  breast  to  Thurston,  and  asked  for  help. 
This  was  generously  accorded,  and  Horn  set 
sail  for  Westerness.  He  arrived  not  too  early 
on  the  day  of  the  wedding,  —  “  ne  might  he 
come  no  later !  ”  —  left  his  men  in  a  wood, 
and  set  off  for  Ailmar’s  court  alone.  He  met 
a  palmer,  and  asked  his  news.  The  palmer 
had  come  from  a  bridal ;  a  wedding  of  maid 
Rymenhild,  who  wept  and  would  not  be  mar¬ 
ried,  because  she  had  a  husband,  though  he 
was  out  of  the  land.  Horn  changed  clothes 
with  the  palmer,  put  on  the  sclavin,  took  scrip 
and  staff,  blackened  his  skin  and  twisted  his 
lip,  and  presented  himself  at  the  king’s  gate. 
The  porter  would  not  let  him  in  ;  Horn  kicked 


190 


17.  HIND  HORN 


open  the  wicket,  threw  the  porter  over  the 
bridge,  made  his  way  into  the  hall,  and  sat 
down  in  the  beggars’  row.  Rymenhild  was 
weeping  as  if  she  were  out  of  her  wits,  but 
after  meat  she  rose  to  give  all  the  knights 
and  squires  drink  from  a  horn  which  she  bare : 
such  was  the  custom.  Horn  called  to  her : 

‘  Skink  us  with  the  first, 

The  beggars  ben  athirst.’ 

She  laid  down  her  horn  and  filled  him  a  gallon 
bowl ;  but  Horn  would  not  drink  of  that.  He 
said,  mysteriously,  “  Thou  thinkest  I  am  a 
beggar,  but  I  am  a  fisher,  come  far  from  the 
East,  to  fish  at  thy  feast.  My  net  lies  near  at 
hand,  and  hath  full  seven  year.  I  am  come 
to  see  if  it  has  taken  any  fish. 

‘  I  am  come  to  fish  ; 

Drink  to  me  from  thy  dish, 

Drink  to  Horn  from  horn  !  ’  ” 

Rymenhild  looked  at  him,  a  chill  creeping 
over  her  heart.  What  he  meant  by  his  fish¬ 
ing  she  did  not  see.  She  filled  her  horn  and 
drank  to  him,  handed  it  to  the  pilgrim,  and 
said,  “  Drink  thy  fill,  and  tell  me  if  ever  thou 
saw  Horn.”  Horn  drank,  and  threw  the  ring 
into  the  vessel.  When  the  princess  went  to 
bower,  she  found  the  ring  she  had  given  Horn. 
She  feared  he  was  dead,  and  sent  for  the 
palmer.  The  palmer  said  Horn  had  died  on 
the  voyage  to  Westerness,  and  had  begged 
him  to  go  with  the  ring  to  Rymenhild.  Ry¬ 
menhild  could  bear  no  more.  She  threw  her¬ 
self  on  her  bed,  where  she  had  hid  a  knife, 
to  kill  both  King  Modi  and  herself  if  Horn 
should  not  come  ;  she  set  the  knife  to  her 
heart,  and  there  Horn  stopped  her.  He  wiped 
off  the  black,  and  cried,  “  I  am  Horn  !  ”  Great 
was  their  bliss,  but  it  was  not  a  time  to  in¬ 
dulge  themselves  fully. 

Horn  sprang  out  of  hall, 

And  let  his  sclavin  fall,  (1246) 

and  went  to  summon  his  knights.  Rymen¬ 
hild  sent  after  him  the  faithful  Athulf,  who 
all  the  while  had  been  watching  for  Horn  in 


the  tower.  They  slew  all  that  were  in  the 
castle,  except  King  Ailmar  and  Horn’s  old 
comrades.  Horn  spared  even  Fikenild,  taking 
an  oath  of  fidelity  from  him  and  the  rest. 
Then  he  made  himself  known  to  Ailmar,  de¬ 
nied  what  he  had  been  charged  with,  and 
would  not  marry  Rymenhild  even  now,  not 
till  he  had  won  back  Suddenne.  This  he 
went  immediately  about ;  but  while  he  was 
engaged  in  clearing  the  land  of  Saracens  and 
rebuilding  churches,  the  false  Fikenild  bribed 
young  and  old  to  side  with  him,  built  a  strong 
castle,  “  married  ”  Rymenhild,  carried  her  into 
his  fortress,  and  began  a  feast.  Horn,  warned 
in  a  dream,  again  set  sail  for  Westerness,  and 
came  in  by  Fikenild’s  new  castle.  Athulf’s 
cousin  was  on  the  shore,  to  tell  him  what  had 
happened  ;  how  Fikenild  had  wedded  Rymen¬ 
hild  that  very  day  ;  he  had  beguiled  Horn 
twice.  Force  would  not  avail  now.  Horn 
disguised  himself  and  some  of  his  knights  as 
harpers  and  fiddlers,  and  their  music  gained 
them  admittance.  Horn  began  a  lay  which 
threw  Rymenhild  into  a  swoon.  This  smote 
him  to  the  heart ;  he  looked  on  his  ring  and 
thought  of  her.  Fikenhild  and  his  men  were 
soon  disposed  of.  Horn  was  in  a  condition  to 
reward  all  his  faithful  adherents.  He  mar¬ 
ried  Athulf  to  Thurston’s  daughter,  and  made 
Rymenhild  queen  of  Suddenne. 

The  French  romance  contains  very  nearly 
the  same  story,  extended,  by  expansions  of 
various  sorts,  to  about  six  times  the  length  of 
King  Horn.  It  would  be  out  of  place  to  no¬ 
tice  other  variations  than  those  which  relate 
to  the  story  preserved  in  the  ballads.  Rimild 
offers  Horn  a  ring  when  she  first  avows  her 
love.  He  will  not  take  it  then,  but  accepts  a 
second  tender,  after  his  first  fight.  When  he 
is  accused  to  the  king,  he  offers  to  clear  him¬ 
self  by  combat  with  heavy  odds,  but  will  not 
submit,  king’s  son  as  fie  is,  to  purgation  by 
oath.  The  king  says,  then  he  may  quit  the 
land  and  go  —  to  Norway,  if  he  will.  Horn 
begs  Rimild  to  maintain  her  love  for  him 
seven  years.  If  he  does  not  come  then,  he 
will  send  her  word  to  act  thereafter  at  her 
pleasure.  Rimild  exchanges  the  ring  she  had 
previously  given  him  for  one  set  with  a  sap- 


IT.  HIND  HORN 


191 


phire,  wearing  which  faithfully  he  need  not 
fear  death  by  water  nor  fire,  battle  nor  tour¬ 
ney  (vv  2051-8).  He  looks  at  this  ring  when 
he  fights  with  the  pagan  that  had  killed  his 
father,  and  it  fires  his  heart  to  extraordinary 
exploits  (3166  ff).  Having  learned  through 
a  friend,  who  had  long  been  seeking  him,  that 
Rimild’s  father  is  about  to  marry  her  to  a 
young  king  (Modun),  Horn  returns  to  Brit¬ 
tany  with  a  large  force.  He  leaves  his  men 
in  a  woody  place,  and  goes  out  alone  on  horse¬ 
back  for  news  ;  meets  a  palmer,  who  tells  him 
that  the  marriage  is  to  take  place  that  very 
day ;  gives  the  palmer  his  fine  clothes  in  ex¬ 
change  for  sclavin,  staff  and  scrip,  forces  his 
way  into  the  city,  and  is  admitted  to  the  ban¬ 
quet  hall  with  the  beggars.  After  the  guests 
had  eaten  (4152  ff),  Rimild  filled  a  splendid 
cup  with  piment,  presented  it  first  a  sun  dru , 
and  then,  with  her  maids,  served  the  whole 
company.  As  she  was  making  her  fifth  round, 
Horn  pulled  her  by  the  sleeve,  and  reproached 
her  with  attending  only  to  the  rich.  “  Your 
credit  would  be  greater  should  you  serve  us.” 
She  set  a  handsome  cup  before  him,  but  he 
would  not  drink.  “  Corn  apelent  Horn  li 
Engleis,”  he  said.  “  If,  for  the  love  of  him 
who  bore  that  name,  you  would  give  me  the 
same  horn  that  you  offered  your  ami ,  I  would 
share  it  with  you.”  All  but  fainting,  Rimild 
gave  him  the  horn.  He  threw  in  his  ring, 
even  that  which  she  had  given  him  at  part¬ 
ing,  drank  out  half,  and  begged  her  to  drink 

*  When  Horn  was  near  the  city,  he  stopped  to  see  how 
things  would  go.  King  Modun  passed,  with  Wikel,  in  gay 
discourse  of  the  charms  of  Rimikl.  Horn  called  out  to  them 
insultingly,  and  Modun  asked  who  he  was.  Horn  said  he 
had  formerly  served  a  man  of  consequence  as  his  fisherman  : 
he  had  thrown  a  net  almost  seven  years  ago,  and  had  now 
come  to  give  it  a  look.  If  it  had  taken  any  fish,  he  would 
love  it  no  more;  if  it  should  still  be  as  he  left  it,  he  would 
carry  it  away.  Modun  thinks  him  a  fool.  (3984-4057, 
and  nearly  the  same  in  ‘Horn  Childe  and  Maiden  Ri¬ 
mild, ’  77-79).  This  is  part  of  a  story  in  the  Gesta  Roma- 
norum,  of  a  soldier  who  loved  the  emperor’s  daughter,  and 
went  to  the  holy  land  for  seven  years,  after  a  mutual  ex¬ 
change  of  fidelity  for  that  time.  A  king  comes  to  woo  the 
princess,  but  is  put  off  for  seven  years,  upon  her  alleging 
that  she  has  made  a  vow  of  virginity  for  so  long.  At  the 
expiration  of  this  term,  the  king  and  the  soldier  meet  as 
they  are  on  the  way  to  the  princess.  The  king,  from  cer¬ 
tain  passages  between  them,  thinks  the  soldier  a  fool.  The 


by  the  love  of  him  whom  he  had  named.  In 
drinking,  she  sipped  the  ring  into  her  mouth, 
and  she  saw  at  once  what  it  was  (4234).  “I 
have  found  a  ring,”  said  she.  “  If  it  is  yours, 
take  it.  Blest  be  he  to  whom  I  gave  it:  if 
you  know  aught  of  him,  conceal  it  not.  If  you 
are  Horn,  it  were  a  great  sin  not  to  reveal 
yourself.”  Horn  owned  that  the  ring  was  his, 
but  denied  knowledge  of  the  man  she  spake 
of.  For  himself,  he  had  been  reared  in  that 
land,  and  by  service  had  come  into  possession 
of  a  hawk,  which,  before  taming  it,  he  had 
put  in  a  cage. :  that  was  nigh  seven  years  since  : 
he  had  come  now  to  see  what  it  amounted  to. 
If  it  should  prove  to  be  as  good  as  when  he 
left  it,  he  would  carry  it  away  with  him  ;  but  if 
its  feathers  were  ruffled  and  broken,  he  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  At  this,  Rimild 
broke  into  a  laugh,  and  cried,  “Horn,  ’t is 
you,  and  your  hawk  has  been  safely  kept !  ”  * 
She  would  go  with  him  or  kill  herself.  Horn 
saw  that  she  had  spoken  truth,  but,  to  try 
her  yet  further,  said  he  was  indeed  Horn, 
whom  she  had  loved.,  but  he  had  come  back 
with  nothing :  why  should  she  follow  a  poor 
wretch  who  could  not  give  her  a  gown  to  her 
back  ?  “  Little  do  you  know  me,”  was  her 

reply.  “  I  can  bear  what  you  bear,  and  there 
is  no  king  in  the  East  for  whom  I  would  quit 
you.” 

‘  Horn  Childe  and  Maiden  Rimnild,’  with 
many  diversities  of  its  own  as  to  details,  is 
more  like  the  French  than  the  English  ro- 

soldier  takes  leave  of  the  king  under  pretence  of  looking 
after  a  net  which  he  had  laid  in  a  certain  place  seven  years 
before,  rides  on  ahead,  and  'slips  away  with  the  princess. 
Gest.  Rom.,  Oesterley,  p.  597,  No  193;  Grasse,  ii,  159; 
Madden,  p.  32  ;  Swan,  i,  p.  lxv.  A  similar  story  in  Camp¬ 
bell’s  Tales  of  the  West  Highlands,  i,  281,  ‘  Baillie  Lun- 
nain.’  (Simrock,  Deutsche  Marchen,  No  47,  is  apparently  a 
translation  from  the  Gesta.)  The  riddle  of  the  hawk,  slightly 
varied,  is  met  with  in  the  romance  of  Blonde  of  Oxford 
and  Jehan  of  Dammartin,  v.  2811  ff,  3143  ff,  3288  ff  (ed.  Le 
Roux  de  Lincy,  pp.  98,  109,  114),  and,  still  further  modified, 
in  Le  Romant  de  Jehan  de  Paris,  ed.  Montaiglon,  pp.  55, 
63,  111.  (Le  Roux  de  Lincy,  Kohler,  Mussafia,  G.  Paris). 
‘  Horn  et  Rimenhild,’  it  will  be  observed,  has  both  riddles, 
and  that  of  the  net  is  introduced  under  circumstances  en¬ 
tirely  like  those  in  the  Gesta  Romanorum.  The  French 
romance  is  certainly  independent  of  the  English  in  this  pas¬ 
sage. 


192 


17.  HIND  HORN 


mance  as  to  the  story,  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
has  one  or  two  resemblances  to  the  ballads 
which  they  both  lack.  Rimnild’s  father,  mad¬ 
dened  by  the  traitor  Wikel’s  false  information, 
beats  her  till  she  bleeds,  and  threatens  to  slay 
Horn.  Rimnild,  expecting  her  lover  to  be  at 
least  exiled,  assures  Horn  that  she  will  marry 
no  other  man  for  seven  years.  The  king, 
who  had  shut  himself  up  till  his  first  wrath 
was  past,  tells  Horn,  when  he  next  comes  into 
his  presence,  that  if  he  is  found  in  the  land 
on  the  morrow,  he  shall  be  drawn  with  horses 
and  hanged.  Rimnild,  at  parting,  gives  him 
a  ring,  with  these  words  : 

£  Loke  thou  forsake  it  for  no  thing, 

It  schal  hen  our  tokening  ; 

The  ston  it  is  wele  trewe. 

When  the  ston  wexeth  wan, 

Than  chaungeth  the  thoujt  of  thi  leman, 
Take  than  a  newe  ; 

When  the  ston  wexeth  rede, 

Than  have  Y  lorn  mi  maidenhed, 

O^aines  the  untrewe.’  (Michel,  st.  48.) 

Horn,  for  his  part,  bids  her  every  day  look 
into  a  spring  in  her  arbor :  should  she  see  his 
shadow,  then  he  is  about  to  marry  another ; 
till  then  his  thought  will  not  have  changed 
(sts  48,  49).  Though  loved,  as  before,  by  an¬ 
other  princess,  Horn  kept  his  faith;  but  when 
seven  years  were  gone,  on  looking  at  the  stone 
he  saw  that  its  hue  was  changed  (st.  71). 
He  immediately  gathered  a  force,  and  set  sail 
for  Rimnild.  On  landing  he  saw  a  beggar, 
who  turned  out  to  be  one  of  his  old  friends, 
and  had  been  looking  for  him  a  long  time. 
That  day  Moging  the  king  was  to  marry  Rim¬ 
nild.  They  changed  weeds  (76)  ;  Horn  forced 
his  way  into  the  castle.  While  Rimnild  was 
serving  the  guests,  Horn,  who  had  tried  to 
pass  for  a  fool,  called  to  her  to  attend  to 
God’s  men.  She  fetched  him  drink,  and  he 
said,  “  For  Horn’s  love,  if  ever  he  was  dear 
to  thee,  go  not  ere  this  be  drunk.”  He  threw 
the  ring  into  the  cup :  she  brought  him  an¬ 
other  drink  (something  is  wrong  here,  for  noth¬ 
ing  is  said  of  her  seeing  and  recognizing  the 
ring),  and  asked  if  Horn  were  there.  She 
fainted  when  she  learned  that  he  was,  but  on 


recovering  sent  Hatherof  (=  Athulf)  to  bid 
the  king  make  merry,  and  then  to  gather  per¬ 
iwinkle  and  ivy,  “  grasses  that  ben  of  main  ” 
(to  stain  her  face  with,  no  doubt),  and  then 
to  tell  Horn  to  wait  for  her  under  a  wood- 
side. 

‘  When  al  this  folk  is  gon  to  play, 

He  and  Y  schal  steal  oway, 

Bituene  the  day  and  the  ni;t.’  (87) 

Hatherof  did  his  message.  Of  true  love  Horn 
was  sure.  He  said  he  would  come  into  the 
field  with  a  hundred  knights.  A  tournament 
follows,  as  in  the  French  romance ;  the  royal 
bridegroom  is  unhorsed,  but  spared ;  treachery 
is  punished  and  forced  to  confession. 

Now  is  Rimnild  tuiis  wedde, 

Horn  brou^t  hir  to  his  bedde.  (94) 

That  the  lay  or  gest  of  King  Horn  is  a  far 
more  primitive  poem  than  the  French  ro¬ 
mance,  and  could  not  possibly  be  derived  from 
it,  will  probably  be  plain  to  any  one  who  will 
make  even  a  hasty  comparison  of  the  two  ;  and 
that  the  contrary  opinion  should  have  been 
held  by  such  men  as  Warton  and  Tyrwhitt 
must  have  been  the  result  of  a  general  theory, 
not  of  a  particular  examination.*  There  is, 
on  the  other  hand,  no  sufficient  reason  for  sup¬ 
posing  that  the  English  lay  is  the  source  of 
the  other  two  poems.  Nor  do  the  special  ap¬ 
proximations  of  the  ballads  to  the  romance  of 
Horn  Child  oblige  us  to  conclude  that  these, 
or  any  of  them,  are  derived  from  that  poem. 
The  particular  resemblances  are  the  discolora¬ 
tion  of  the  ring,  the  elopement  with  the  bride, 
in  C,  G,  H  (which  is  only  prepared  for,  but 
not  carried  out,  in  Horn  Child),  and  the 
agreement  between  the  couplet  just  cited  from 
Horn  Child, 

Now  is  Rimnild  tuiis  wedde, 

Horn  brou;t  hir  to  his  bedde, 

and  the  last  stanza  of  A,  B,  C  : 

The  bridegroom  he  had  wedded  the  bride, 

But  Young  Hind  Horn  he  took  her  to  bed.  (A) 

*  See  the  excellent  studies  of  King  Horn  by  Wissmann, 
in  Quellen  und  Forschungen,  No  16,  and  Anglia,  tv,  342  ff. 


193 


17.  HIND  HORN 


The  bridegroom  thought  he  had  the  bonnie  bride 
wed. 

But  Young  Hyn  Horn  took  the  bride  to  bed.  (B) 

Her  ain  bridegroom  had  her  first  wed, 

But  Young  Hyn  Horn  had  her  first  to  bed.  (C) 

The  likeness  evinces  a  closer  affinity  of  the 
oral  traditions  with  the  later  English  romance 
than  with  the  earlier  English  or  the  French, 
but  no  filiation.  And  were  filiation  to  be  ac¬ 
cepted,  there  would  remain  the  question  of 
priority.  It  is  often  assumed,  without  a  mis¬ 
giving,  that  oral  tradition  must  needs  be 
younger  than  anything  that  was  committed 
to  writing  some  centuries  ago  ;  but  this  re¬ 
quires  in  each  case  to  be  made  out ;  there  is 
certainly  no  antecedent  probability  of  that 
kind.* 

Two  Scandinavian  ballads,  as  Dr  Prior  has 
remarked,  seem  to  have  been  at  least  suggested 
by  the  romances  of  Horn. 

(1.)  ‘  Unge  Hr.  Tor  og  Jomfru  Tore,’ 
Grundtvig,  No  72,  n,  263,  translated  by  Prior, 
m,  151.  Of  this  there  are  two  traditional 
versions :  A  from  a  manuscript  of  the  six¬ 
teenth  century,  B  from  one  of  the  seventeenth. 
They  agree  in  story.  In  A,  Tor  asks  Sol- 
ffuermord  how  long  she  will  wait  for  him. 
Nine  years,  she  answers,  if  she  can  do  so  with¬ 
out  angering  her  friends.  He  will  be  satisfied 
with  eight.  Eight  have  passed  :  a  family  coun¬ 
cil  is  held,  and  it  is  decided  that  she  shall 
not  have  Young  Tor,  but  a  certain  rich  count. 
Her  father  “  gives  her  away  ”  that  same  day. 
The  lady  goes  up  to  a  balcony  and  looks  sea¬ 
ward.  Everybody  seems  to  be  coming  home 
but  her  lover.  She  begs  her  brother  to  ride 
down  to  the  shore  for  her.  Tor  is  just  coming 
in,  hails  the  horseman,  and  eagerly  asks  how 
are  the  maids  in  the  isle.  The  brother  tells 
him  that  his  maid  has  waited  eight  years,  and 
is  even  now  drinking  her  bridal,  but  with 
tears.  Tor  takes  his  harp  and  chess-board,  and 

*  A,  B,  and  E,  which  had  not  been  printed  at  the  time  of 
his  writing,  will  convince  Professor  Stimming,  whose  valua¬ 
ble  review  in  Englische  Studien,  1,  351  ff,  supplements,  and  in 
the  matter  of  derivation,  I  think,  rectifies,  Wissmann’s  Un- 
tersuchungen,  that  the  king’s  daughter  in  the  ballads  was 
faithful  to  Horn,  and  that  they  were  marrying  her  against 

25 


plays  outside  the  bridal  hall  till  the  bride 
hears  and  knows  him.  He  then  enters  the 
hall,  and  asks  if  there  is  anybody  that  can 
win  a  game  of  chess.  The  father  replies,  No¬ 
body  but  Solffuermord,  and  she  sits  a  bride  at 
the  board.  The  mother  indulgently  suggests 
that  the  midsummer  day  is  long,  and  the  bride 
might  well  try  a  game.  The  bride  seeks  an 
express  sanction  of  her  father,  who  lessons 
her  the  livelong  day,  being  suspicious  of  Tor, 
but  towards  evening  consents  to  her  playing 
a  little  while,  —  not  long.  Tor  wins  the  first 
game,  and  must  needs  unpack  his  heart  in  a 
gibing  parable,  ending 

‘  Full  hard  is  gold  to  win, 

And  so  is  a  trothless  quean.’ 

She  wins  the  next  game,  takes  up  the  parable, 
and  says 

‘  Many  were  glad  their  faith  to  hold, 

Were  their  lot  to  he  controlled.’ 

They  are  soon  at  one,  and  resolve  to  fly.  They 
slip  away,  go  aboard  Tor’s  ship,  and  put  off. 
The  bride’s  parents  get  information,  and  the 
mother,  who  is  a  professor  of  the  black  art, 
raises  a  storm  which  she  means  shall  sink 
them  both.  No  one  can  steer  the  ship  but 
the  bride.  She  stands  at  the  helm,  with  her 
gold  crown  on,  while  her  lover  is  lying  seasick 
•  on  the  deck,  and  she  brings  the  craft  safe 
into  Norway,  where  a  second  wedding  is  cele¬ 
brated. 

(2.)  The  other  ballad  is  ‘  Herr  Lovmand 
og  Herr  Thor,’  Syv,  iv,  No  68,  Danske  Viser, 
IV,  180,  No  199,  translated  by  Prior,  n,  442. 
Lovmand,  having  betrothed  Ingelil,  asks  how 
long  she  will  be  his  maid.  “  Eight  years,  if  I 
may,”  she  says.  This  term  has  elapsed ;  her 
brothers  consult,  and  give  her  to  rich  Herr 
Thor.  They  drink  the  bridal  for  five  days ; 
for  nine  days ;  she  will  not  go  to  bed.  On 
the  evening  of  the  tenth  they  begin  to  use 

her  will,  as  in  the  romances.  This  contingency  seems  not  to 
have  been  foreseen  when  the  ring  was  given:  but  it  must 
be  admitted  that  it  was  better  for  the  ring  to  change,  to  the 
temporary  clouding  of  the  lady’s  character,  than  to  have 
Horn  stay  away  and  the  forced  marriage  go  on. 


194 


17.  HIND  HORN 


force.  She  begs  that  she  may  first  go  to 
the  look-out  up-stairs.  From  there  she  sees 
ships,  great  and  small,  and  the  sails  which  her 
own  hands  have  made  for  her  lover.  Her 
brother  goes  down  to  the  sea,  as  in  the  other 
ballad,  and  has  a  similar  interview.  Lovmand 
has  the  excuse  of  having  been  sick  seven  years. 
He  borrows  the  brother’s  horse,  flies  faster 
than  a  bird,  and  the  torch  is  burning  at  the 
door  of  the  bride’s  house  when  he  arrives. 
Thor  is  reasonable  enough  to  give  up  the  bride, 
and  to  accept  Lovmand’s  sister. 

The  ballad  is  extremely  common  in  Sweden, 
and  at  least  six  versions  have  been  published. 
A,  ‘  Herr  Lagman  och  Herr  Thor,’  from  a 
manuscript  of  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  cen¬ 
tury,  Arwidsson,  I,  165,  No  24;  B,  from  a 
manuscript,  ib.,  p.  168 ;  C,  from  oral  tra¬ 
dition,  p.  171  ;  D,  ‘  Lageman  och  hans  Brud,’ 
Eva  Wigstrom,  Folkdiktning  samlad  och 
upptecknad  i  Skane,  p.  29,  No  12  ;  E,  ‘  Stolt 
Ingrid,’  Folkvisor  fran  Skane,  upptecknade 
af  E.  Wigstrom,  in  Hazelius,  Ur  de  nordiska 
Folkens  Lif,  p.  121,  No  3  ;  F,  ‘  Deielill  och 
Lageman,’  Fagerlund,  Anteckningar  om  Korpo 
och  Houtskars  Socknar,  p.  192,  No  3.  In  A, 
D  the  bride  goes  off  in  her  lover’s  ship  ;  in 
C  he  carries  her  off  on  his  horse,  when  the 
dancing  is  at  its  best,  and  subsequently,  upon 
the  king’s  requisition,  settles  matters  with  his 
rival  by  killing  him  in  single  fight.  The  stolid 
bridegroom,  in  the  others,  consents  to  a  peace¬ 
able  arrangement. 

Certain  points  in  the  story  of  Horn  —  the 
long  absence,  the  sudden  return,  the  appear¬ 
ance  under  disguise  at  the  wedding  feast,  and 
the  dropping  of  the  ring  into  a  cup  of  wine 
obtained  from  the  bride  —  repeat  themselves 
in  a  great  number  of  romantic  tales.  More 
commonly  it  is  a  husband  who  leaves  his  wife 
for  seven  years,  is  miraculously  informed  on 
the  last  day  that  she  is  to  be  remarried  on 
the  morrow,  and  is  restored  to  his  home  in 

*  See  the  ample  introduction  to  ‘Henrik  af  Brunsvig,’  in 
Grundtvig,  No  114,  n,  608  ff. 

t  It  appears  that  these  half  rings  are  often  dug  up. 
“Neuere  Ansgrabungen  haben  vielfach  auf  solche  Ring- 
stiicke  gefiihrt,  die,  als  Zeichen  unverbriichlicher  Treue,  einst 


the  nick  of  time,  also  by  superhuman  means. 
Horn  is  warned  to  go  back,  in  the  ballads  and 
in  Horn  Child,  by  the  discoloration  of  his  ring, 
but  gets  home  as  he  can  ;  this  part  of  the 
story  is  slurred  over  in  a  way  that  indicates 
a  purpose  to  avoid  a  supernatural  expedient. 

Very  prominent  among  the  stories  referred 
to  is  that  of  Henry  of  Brunswick  [Henry  the 
Lion,  Reinfrid  of  Brunswick],  and  this  may 
well  be  put  first,  because  it  is  preserved  in 
Scandinavian  popular  ballads.* 

(1.)  The  latest  of  these,  a  Swedish  bal¬ 
lad,  from  a  collection  made  at  the  end  of  the 
last  century,  ‘  Hertig  Henrik,’  Arwidsson,  No 
168,  n,  422,  represents  Duke  Henry  as  telling 
his  wife  that  he  is  minded  to  go  off  for  seven 
years  (he  says  not  whither,  but  it  is  of  course 
to  the  East)  ;  should  he  stay  eight  or  nine,  she 
may  marry  the  man  she  fancies.  He  cuts  a 
ring  in  two  ;  gives  her  one  half  and  keeps  the 
other.  He  is  made  captive,  and  serves  a 
heathen  lord  and  lady  seven  years,  drawing 
half  the  plough,  “  like  another  horse.”  His 
liberation  is  not  accounted  for,  but  he  was 
probably  set  free  by  his  mistress,  as  in  the 
ballad  which  follows.  He  gets  possession  of  an 
excellent  sword,  and  uses  it  on  an  elephant 
who  is  fighting  with  a  lion.  The  grateful  lion 
transports  the  duke  to  his  own  country  while 
he  is  asleep.  A  herdsman,  of  whom  he  asks 
food,  recommends  him  to  go  to  the  Brunswick 
mansion,  where  there  is  a  wedding,  and  Duke 
Henry’s  former  spouse  is  the  bride.  When 
Henry  comes  to  the  house,  his  daughter  is 
standing  without ;  he  asks  food  for  a  poor  pil¬ 
grim.  She  replies  that  she  has  never  heard 
of  a  pilgrim  taking  a  lion  about  with  him. 
But  they  give  him  drink,  and  the  bride,  pro 
more ,  drinks  out  of  the  same  bowl,  and  finds 
the  half  ring  in  the  bottom.  The  bride  feels  in 
her  pocket  and  finds  her  half,f  and  the  two, 
when  thrown  upon  a  table,  run  together  and 
make  one  ring. 

mit  dem  Geliebten  gebrochen,  ja  wie  der  Augenschein  be- 
weist,  entzwei  geschnitten,  und  so  ins  Grab  mitgenommen 
wurden,  zum  Zeichen  dass  die  Liebe  iiber  den  Tod  hinaus 
daure.”  Rochholz,  Schweizersagen  aus  dem  Aargau,  n, 
116. 


17.  HIND  HORN 


195 


(2.)  The  Danish  ballad  *  (Grundtvig,  No 
114,  B.  from  a  17th  century  manuscript),  re¬ 
lates  that  Duke  Henry,  in  consequence  of  a 
dream,  took  leave  of  his  wife,  enjoining  her  to 
wait  to  the  eighth  year,  and,  if  then  he  did 
not  return,  marry  whom  she  liked.  In  the 
course  of  his  fights  with  the  heathen,  Henry 
was  made  captive,  and  had  to  draw  the  harrow 
and  plough,  like  a  beast.  One  day  (during 
his  lord’s  absence,  as  we  learn  from  A)  the 
heathen  lady  whom  he  served  set  him  free. 
He  had  many  adventures,  and  in  one  of  them 
killed  a  panther  who  was  pressing  a  lion  hard, 
for  which  service  the  lion  followed  him  like  a 
dog.  The  duke  then  happened  upon  a  her¬ 
mit,  who  told  him  that  his  wife  was  to  be  mar¬ 
ried  the  next  day,  but  he  was  to  go  to  sleep, 
and  not  be  concerned.  He  laid  his  head  on  a 
stone  in  the  heathen  land,  and  woke  in  a  trice 
to  hear  German  speech  from  a  herdsman’s 
mouth.  The  herdsman  confirmed  what  the 
hermit  had  said :  the  duchess  was  to  be  mar¬ 
ried  on  the  morrow.  The  duke  went  to  the 
kitchen  as  a  pilgrim,  and  sent  word  to  the 
lady  that  he  wished  to  drink  to  her.  The 
duchess,  surprised  at  this  freedom,  summoned 
him  into  her  presence.  The  verses  are  lost  in 
which  the  cup  should  be  given  the  pilgrim 
and  returned  to  the  lady.  When  she  drank 
off  the  wine  that  was  left,  a  half  ring  lay  in 
the  glass. 

Danish  A,  though  of  the  16th  century,  does 
not  mention  the  ring. 

(3.)  A  Flemish  broadside,  which  may  orig¬ 
inally  have  been  of  the  15th  century,  relates 
the  adventures  of  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  in 
sixty-five  stanzas  of  four  long  lines  :  reprinted 
in  von  der  Hagen’s  Germania,  vm,  359,  and 
Hoffmann's  Niederliindische  Volkslieder,  No 
2,  p.  6  ;  Coussemaker,  No  47,  p.  152  ;  abridged 
and  made  over,  in  Willems,  O.  v.  L.,  p.  251, 
No  107.  The  duke,  going  to  war,  tells  his 
wife  to  marry  again  if  he  stays  away  seven 
years.  She  gives  him  half  of  her  ring.  Seven 
years  pass,  and  the  duke,  being  then  in  des¬ 
perate  plight  in  a  wilderness,  is  taken  off  by 
a  ship  ;  by  providential  direction,  no  doubt, 

*  Translated,  with  introduction  of  verses  from  A,  by 
Prior,  Ancient  Danish  Ballads,  ii,  71. 


though  at  first  it  does  not  so  appear.  For  the 
fiend  is  aboard,  who  tells  him  that  his  wife  is 
to  be  married  to-morrow,  and  offers,  for  his 
soul,  to  carry  him  to  his  palace  in  his  sleep 
before  day.  The  duke,  relying  on  heaven  and 
his  lion,  professes  to  accept  the  terms :  he  is 
to  be  taken  to  his  palace  in  his  sleep.  The 
lion  rouses  his  master  at  the  right  time,  and 
the  fiend  is  baffled.  The  duke  goes  to  the 
marriage  feast,  and  sends  a  message  to  the 
bride  that  he  desires  a  drink  from  her  in 
memory  of  her  lord.  They  take  him  for  a 
beggar,  but  the  lady  orders  him  wine  in  a  gold 
cup.  The  cup  goes  back  to  her  with  the 
duke’s  half  ring  in  it.  She  cries,  “  It  is  my 
husband  !  ”  joins  her  half  to  the  one  in  the 
cup,  and  the  two  adhere  firmly. 

(4.)  A  German  poem  of  the  15th  century, 
by  Michel  Wyssenhere,  in  ninety-eight  stanzas 
of  seven  lines,  first  printed  by  Massmann, 
Denkmaeler  deutscher  Sprache  und  Literatur, 
p.  122,  and  afterwards  by  Erlach,  n,  290,  and 
elsewhere.  The  Lord  of  Brunswick  receives 
an  impression  in  a  dream  that  he  ought  to  go 
to  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  He  cuts  a  ring  in 
two,  and  gives  his  wife  one  half  for  a  souvenir, 
but  fixes  no  time  for  his  absence,  and  so  nat¬ 
urally  says  nothing  about  her  taking  another 
husband.  He  has  the  adventures  which  are 
usual  in  other  versions  of  the  story,  and  at 
last  finds  himself  among  the  Wild  Hunt  (das 
woden  her),  and  obliges  one  of  the  company, 
by  conjurations,  to  tell  him  how  it  is  with  his 
wife  and  children.  The  spirit  informs  him 
that  his  wife  is  about  to  marry  another  man. 
He  then  constrains  the  spirit  to  transport  him 
and  his  lion  to  his  castle.  This  is  done  on  the 
same  terms  as  in  the  Flemish  poem,  and  the 
lion  wakes  his  master.  His  wife  offers  him 
drink  ;  he  lets  his  half  ring  drop  in  the  glass, 
and,  upon  the  glass  being  returned  to  the  lady, 
she  takes  out  the  token,  finds  it  like  her  half, 
and  cries  out  that  she  has  recovered  her  dear 
husband  and  lord. 

(5.)  Henry  the  Lion,  a  chap-book  printed 
in  the  16th  century,  in  one  hundred  and  four 
stanzas  of  eight  short  verses;  reprinted  in 
Biisching’s  Volkssagen,  Marchen  und  Le- 
genden,  p.  213  ff,  and  (modernized)  by  Sim- 


196 


17.  HIND  HORN 


rock  in  the  first  volume  of  Die  deutschen 
Yolksbiicher.  The  hero  goes  out  simply  in 
quest  of  adventures,  and,  having  lost  his  ship 
and  all  his  companions,  is  floating  on  a  raft 
with  his  lion,  when  the  devil  comes  to  him 
and  tells  him  that  his  wife  is  to  remarry.  A 
compact  is  made,  and  the  devil  balked,  as  be¬ 
fore.  Though  we  were  not  so  informed  at  the 
beginning,  it  now  turns  out  that  the  duke  had 
given  a  half  ring  to  the  duchess  seven  years 
before,  and  had  bidden  her  take  a  second  hus¬ 
band  if  he  did  not  come  back  in  that  time. 
The  duke  sends  a  servant  to  beg  a  drink  of 
wine  of  his  wife,  and  returns  the  cup,  as  in 

(3),  (4). 

(6.)  A  ballad  in  nine  seven-line  stanzas, 
supposed  to  be  by  a  Meistersinger,  preserved 
in  broadsides  of  about  1550  and  1603,  Bohme, 
No  5,  p.  30,  Erk’s  Wunderhorn,  iv,  111.  (7.) 
Hans  Sachs’s  ‘  Historia,’  1562,  in  two  hundred 
and  four  verses,  Works,  ed.  1578,  Bucli  iv, 
Theil  ii,  Blatt  lviib-lviiib.*  (8.)  A  Meister- 
singerlied  of  the  end  of  the  16th  century,  in 
three  twenty-line  stanzas,  printed  in  Idunna 
u.  Hermode  for  March  27,  1813  (appended 
to  p.  64),  and  after  this,  with  changes,  in 
Kretzschmer,  n,  17,  No  5. —  These  three  agree 
with  the  foregoing  as  to  the  ring. 

(9.)  Reinfrid  von  Braunschweig,  c.  1300,  ed. 
Bartsch,  1871.  Reinfrid  is  promised  by  the 
Virgin,  who  appears  to  him  thrice  in  vision, 
that  he  shall  have  issue  if  he  will  go  over  sea 
to  fight  the  heathen.  He  bfeaks  a  ring  which 
his  wife  had  given  him,  and  gives  her  one  half, 
vv.  14,906-11.  If  he  dies,  she  is  to  marry, 
for  public  reasons,  vv.  14,398-407 ;  but  she  is 
•  not  to  believe  a  report  of  his  death  unless  she 
receives  his  half  of  the  ring  back,  vv.  14,782- 
816,  15,040-049.  The  latter  part  of  the  ro¬ 
mance  not  being  extant,  we  do  not  know  the 
conclusion,  but  a  variation  as  to  the  use  made 
of  the  ring  is  probable.f 

The  story  of  Reinfrit  is  also  preserved  in 

*  I  have  not  seen  this,  and  depend  upon  others  here. 

t  Godeke,  ‘  Reinfrit  von  Braunschweig,’  p.  89,  conjectures 
that  the  half  ring  was,  or  would  have  been,  employed  in  the 
sequel  by  some  impostor  (the  story  may  never  have  been  fin¬ 
ished)  as  evidence  of  Brunswick’s  death.  A  ring  is  so  used 
in  a  Silesian  tradition,  of  the  general  character  of  that  of 


a  Bohemian  prose  chap-book  printed  before 
1565.  This  prose  is  clearly  a  poem  broken 
up,  and  it  is  believed  that  the  original  should 
be  placed  in  the  first  half  of  the  14th  century, 
or  possibly  at  the  end  of  the  13th.  The  hero 
returns,  in  pilgrim’s  garb,  after  seven  years’ 
absence,  to  find  his  wife  about  to  be  handed 
over  by  her  father  to  another  prince.  He  lets 
his  ring  fall  into  a  cup,  and  goes  away ;  his 
wife  recognizes  the  ring,  and  is  reunited  to  him. 
The  story  has  passed  from  the  Bohemian  into 
Russian  and  Magyar.  Feifalik,  Sitzungsbe- 
richte  der  phil.-hist.  Classe  der  Wiener  Akad- 
emie,  xxix,  83  ff,  the  ring  at  p.  92 ;  xxxh, 
322  ff. 

Similar  use  is  made  of  the  ring  in  other 
German  romances.  (1.)  ‘  Der  edle  Moringer  ’ 
(MS.  of  14th  century)  asks  his  wife  to  wait 
seven  years  for  him,  while  he  visits  the  land 
of  St  Thomas.  He  is  warned  by  an  angel,  at 
the  expiration  of  that  period,  that  he  will  lose 
her  if  he  does  not  go  back,  bewails  himself  to 
his  patron,  and  is  conveyed  home  in  a  sleep. 
He  begs  an  alms  at  his  castle-gate  in  the  name 
of  God,  St  Thomas,  and  the  noble  Moringer ; 
is  admitted  to  his  wife’s  presence ;  sings  a  lay 
describing  his  own  case,  which  moves  the  lady 
much ;  throws  into  a  beaker  of  wine,  which 
she  sets  before  him,  the  ring  by  which  she 
was  married  to  him,  sends  the  cup  back  to 
her,  and  is  recognized.  Bohme,  No  6,  p.  32; 
Uhland,  No  298,  p.  773.  (2.)  In  the  older 
Hildebrandslied,  which  is  of  the  14th  century, 
or  earlier,  the  hero,  returning  after  an  absence 
of  thirty-two  years,  drops  his  ring  into  a  cup 
of  wine  presented  to  him  by  his  wife.  Bohme, 
No  1,  p.  1 ;  Uhland,  No  132,  p.  330.  (3.) 

Wolfdietrich  drops  Ortnit’s  ring  into  a  cup  of 
wine  sent  him  by  Liebgart,  who  has  been  ad¬ 
judged  to  the  Graf  von  Biterne  in  considera¬ 
tion  of  his  having,  as  he  pretended,  slain  the 
dragon.  The  cup  is  returned  to  the  empress, 
the  ring  identified,  the  pretension  refuted,  and 

Henry  the  Lion,  with  the  difference  that  the  knight  is  awak¬ 
ened  by  a  cock’s  crowing  :  ‘  Die  Hahnkrahe  bei  Breslau,’  in 
Kern’s  Schlesische  Sagen-Chronik,  p.  151.  There  is  a  varia¬ 
tion  of  this  last,  without  the  deception  by  means  of  the  ring, 
in  Goedsche’s  Schlesischer  Sagenschatz,  p.  37,  No  16. 


17.  HIND  HORN 


Liebgart  given  to  Ortnit’s  avenger.  Wolf- 
dietrich  B,  ed.  Janicke,  I,  280  ff,  stanzas  767- 
785.  (4.)  King  Bother  (whose  history  has 

passages  of  the  strongest  resemblance  to 
Horn’s),  coming  to  retrieve  his  wife,  who  has 
been  kidnapped  and  carried  back  to  her  fa¬ 
ther,  lands  below  Constantinople,  at  a  woody 
and  hilly  place,  and  assumes  a  pilgrim’s  dis¬ 
guise.  On  his  way  to  the  city  he  meets  a 
man'  who  tells  him  that  Ymelot  of  Babylon 
has  invaded  Greece,  and  taken  Constantin,  his 
wife’s  father,  prisoner ;  and  that  Constantin, 
to  save  his  life,  has  consented  to  give  his 
daughter  to  the  heathen  king's  son.  Rother 
steals  into  the  hall,  and  even  under  the  table 
at  which  the  royal  party  are  sitting,  and  con¬ 
trives  to  slip  his  ring  into  the  hand  of  his 
distressed  young  queen,  who,  thus  assured  of 
his  presence,  immediately  recovers  her  spirits. 
Massmann,  Deutsche  Gedichte  des  zwoelften 
Jahrhunderts,  Theil  ii,  p.  213,  vv.  3687-3878. 

One  of  the  best  and  oldest  stories  of  the 
kind  we  are  engaged  with  is  transmitted  by 
Ca?sarius  of  Heisterbach  in  his  Dialogus 
Miraculorum,  of  the  first  quarter  of  the  13  th 
century.  Gerard,  a  soldier  living  in  Holen- 
bacli  (“  his  grandchildren  are  still  alive,  and 
there  is  hardly  a  man  in  the  town  who  does 
not  know  about  this”),  being,  like  Moringer, 
devoted  to  St  Thomas  of  India,  was  impelled 
to  visit  his  shrine.  He  broke  a  ring  and  gave 
one  half  to  his  wife,  saying,  Expect  me  back  in 
five  years,  and  marry  whom  you  wish  if  I  do 
not  come  then.  The  journey,  which  would  be 
long  enough  any  way,  was  providentially  pro¬ 
tracted.  He  reached  the  shrine  at  last,  and 
said  his  prayers,  and  then  remembered  that 
that  was  the  last  day  of  his  fifth  year.  Alas, 
my  wife  will  marry  again,  he  thought ;  and 
quite  right  he  was,  for  the  wedding  was  even 
then  preparing.  A  devil,  acting  under  the 
orders  of  St  Thomas,  set  Gerard  down  at  his 
own  door.  He  found  his  wife  supping  with 
her  second  partner,  and  dropped  his  half  ring 
into  her  cup.  She  took  it  out,  fitted  it  to  the 
half  which  had  been  given  her,  rushed  into  his 

*  There  are  marked  correspondences  between  Boccaccio’s 
story  and  the  veritable  history  of  Henry  the  Lion  as  given 
by  Bartsch,  Herzog  Ernst,  cxxvi  f :  e.  g.,  the  presents  of 


197 

arms,  and  bade  good-by  to  the  new  bride¬ 
groom.  Ed.  Strange,  n,  131. 

A  tradition  closely  resembling  this  has  been 
found  in  Switzerland,  Gerard  and  St  Thomas 
being  exchanged  for  Wernhart  von  Striittlin- 
gen  and  St  Michael.  Menzel’s  Odin,  p.  96. 

Another  of  the  most  remarkable  tales  of 
this  class  is  exquisitely  told  by  Boccaccio  in 
the  Decamerone,  G.  x,  N.  ix.  Messer  Torello, 
going  to  the  crusade,  begs  his  wife  to  wait  a 
year,  a  month,  and  a  day  before  she  marries 
again.  The  lady  assures  him  that  she  will 
never  be  another  man’s  wife ;  but  he  replies 
that  a  woman  young,  beautiful,  and  of  high 
family,  as  she  is,  will  not  be  allowed  to  have 
her  way.  With  her  parting  embrace  she  gives 
him  a  ring  from  her  finger,  saying,  If  I  die 
before  I  see  you  again,  remember  me  when 
you  look  on  this.  The  Christians  were  wasted 
by  an  excessive  mortality,  and  those  who  es¬ 
caped  the  ravages  of  disease  fell  into  the 
hands  of  Saladin,  and  were  imprisoned  by  him 
in  various  cities,  Torello  in  Alexandria.  Here 
he  was  recognized  by  Saladin,  whom  he  had 
entertained  with  the  most  delicate  and  splen¬ 
did  hospitality  a  few  months  before,  when  the 
soldan  was  travelling  through  Italy  in  dis¬ 
guise.  Saladin’s  return  for  this  courtesy  was 
so  magnificent  as  almost  to  put  Lombardy  out 
of  Torello’s  head,*  and  besides  he  trusted  that 
his  wife  had  been  informed  of  his  safety  by  a 
letter  which  he  had  sent.  This  was  not  so,  how¬ 
ever,  and  the  death  of  another  Torello  was  re¬ 
ported  in  Italy  as  his,  in  consequence  of  which 
his  supposed  widow  was  solicited  in  marriage, 
and  was  obliged  to  consent  to  take  another 
husband  after  the  time  should  have  expired 
which  she  had  promised  to  wait.  A  week 
before  the  last  day,  Torello  learned  that  the 
ship  which  carried  his  letter  had  been  wrecked, 
and  the  thought  that  his  wife  would  now 
marry  again  drove  him  almost  mad.  Saladin 
extracted  from  him  the  cause  of  his  distress, 
and  promised  that  he  should  yet  be  at  home 
before  the  time  was  out,  which  Torello,  who 
had  heard  that  such  things  had  often  been 

clothes  by  the  empress  (transferred  to  Torello’s  wife),  and 
the  handsome  behavior  of  two  soldans,  here  attributed  to 
Saladin. 


198 


17.  HIND  HORN 


done,  was  ready  to  believe.  And  in  fact,  by 
means  of  one  of  his  necromancers,  Saladin 
caused  Torello  to  be  transported  to  Pavia  in 
one  night  —  the  night  before  the  new  nuptials. 
Torello  appeared  at  the  banquet  the  next  day 
in  the  guise  of  a  Saracen,  under  the  escort  of 
an  uncle  of  his,  a  churchman,  and  at  the  right 
moment  sent  word  to  the  lady  that  it  was  a 
custom  in  his  country  for  a  bride  to  send  her 
cup  filled  with  wine  to  any  stranger  who  might 
be  present,  and  for  him  to  drink  half  and  cover 
the  cup,  and  for  her  to  drink  the  rest.  To 
this  the  lady  graciously  assented.  Torello 
drank  out  most  of  the  wine,  dropped  in  the 
ring  which  his  wife  had  given  him  when  they 
parted,  and  covered  the  cup.  The  lady,  upon 
lifting  the  cover,  saw  the  ring,  knew  her  hus¬ 
band,  and,  upsetting  the  table  in  her  ecstasy, 
threw  herself  into  Torello’s  arms. 

Tales  of  this  description  still  maintain  them¬ 
selves  in  popular  tradition.  ‘  Der  Ring  ehe- 
licher  Treue,’  Gottschalk,  Deutsche  Volksmar- 
chen,  n,  135,  relates  how  Kuno  von  Falken- 
stein,  going  on  a  crusade,  breaks  his  ring  and 
gives  one  half  to  his  wife,  begging  her  to  wait 
seven  years  before  she  marries  again.  He 
has  the  adventures  of  Henry  of  Brunswick, 
with  differences,  and,  like  Moringer,  sings  a 
lay  describing  his  own  case.  The  new  bride¬ 
groom  hands  him  a  cup ;  he  drops  in  his  half 
ring,  and  passes  the  cup  to  the  bride.  The 
two  halves  join  of  themselves.*  Other  exam¬ 
ples,  not  without  variations  and  deficiencies,  in 
details,  are  afforded  by  4  Der  getheilte  Trau- 
ring,’  Schmitz,  Sagen  u.  Legenden  des  Eifler 
Yolkes,  p.  82;  ‘  Bodman,’  Uhland,  in  Pfeif¬ 
fer’s  Germania,  iv,  73-76;  ‘Graf  Hubert  von 
Kalw,’  Meier,  Deutsche  Sagen,  u.  s.  w.,  aus 
Schwaben,  p.  332,  No  369,  Grimms,  Deutsche 
Sagen,  No  524  ;  ‘  Der  Barenhauter,’  Grimms, 
K.  u.  H.  marchen,  No  101 ;  ‘  Berthold  von 
Neuhaus,’  in  Kern’s  Schlesische  Sagen-Chro- 
nik,  p.  93. 

*  Without  the  conclusion,  also  in  Binder’s  Schwabisehe 
Volkssagen,  n,  173.  These  Volksmarchen,  by  the  way,  are 
“  erzahlt  ”  by  Gottschalk.  It  is  not  made  quite  so  clear  as 
could  be  wished,  whether  they  are  merely  re-told. 

t  Germaine’s  husband,  after  an  absence  of  seven  years, 
overcomes  his  wife’s  doubts  of  his  identity  by  exhibiting  half 
of  her  ring,  which  happened  to  break  the  day  of  their  wed- 


A  story  of  the  same  kind  is  interwoven 
with  an  exceedingly  impressive  adventure  re¬ 
lated  of  Richard  Sans-Peur  in  Les  Chroniques 
de  Normandie,  Rouen,  1487,  chap,  lvii,  cited 
in  Michel,  Chronique  des  Dues  de  Normandie 
par  Benoit,  n,  336  ff.  A  second  is  told  of 
Guillaume  Martel,  seigneur  de  Bacqueville  ; 
still  others  of  a  seigneur  Gilbert  de  Lomblon, 
a  comrade  of  St.  Louis  in  his  first  crusade. 
Amalie  de  Bosquet,  La  Normandie  romaneSque 
et  merveilleuse,  pp.  465-68,  470. 

A  Picard  ballad,  existing  in  two  versions, 
partly  cited  by  Rathery  in  the  Moniteur  Uni- 
versel  for  August  26,  1853,  tells  of  a  Sire  de 
Cr6qui,  who,  going  beyond  seas  with  his  sov¬ 
ereign,  breaks  his  ring  and  gives  half  to  his 
young  wife  ;  is  gone  ten  years,  and  made  cap¬ 
tive  by  the  Turks,  who  condemn  him  to  death 
on  account  of  his  adhesion  to  Christ ;  and  is 
transported  to  his  chateau  on  the  eve  of  the 
day  of  his  doom.  This  very  day  his  wife  is  to 
take  another  husband,  sorely  against  her  will. 
Crdqui  appears  in  the  rags  of  a  beggar,  and 
legitimates  himself  by  producing  his  half  of 
the  ring  (which,  in  a  way  not  explained  by 
Rathery,  has  been  brought  back  by  a  swan). 

‘  Le  Retour  du  Mari,’  Puymaigre,  Chants 
populaires  messins,  p.  20,  has  also  some  traits 
of  ballads  of  this  class.  A  bridegroom  has  to 
go  on  a  campaign  the  very  day  of  his  nup¬ 
tials.  The  campaign  lasts  seven  years,  and 
the  day  of  his  return  his  wife  is  about  to  re¬ 
marry.  He  is  invited  to  the  wedding  supper, 
and  towards  the  close  of  it  proposes  to  play 
cards  to  see  who  shall  have  the  bride.  The 
guests  are  surprised.  The  soldier  says  he  will 
have  the  bride  without  winning  her  at  cards 
or  dice,  and,  turning  to  the  lady,  asks,  Where 
are  the  rings  I  gave  you  at  your  wedding 
seven  years  ago  ?  She  will  go  for  them  ;  and 
here  the  story  breaks  off.f 

The  same  hard  fortune  is  that  of  Costan- 
tino,  a  young  Albanian,  who  is  called  to  the 

ding,  or  the  day  after:  Puymaigre,  p.  11,  Champfleury, 
Chansons  des  Provinces,  p.  77.  The  conclusion  to  Sir  Tris- 
trem,  which  Scott  supplied,  “  abridged  from  the  French  met¬ 
rical  romance,  in  the  style  of  Tomas  of  Erceldoune,”  makes 
Ganhardin  lay  a  ring  in  a  cup  which  Brengwain  hands 
Ysonde,  who  recognizes  the  ring  as  Tristrem’s  token.  The 
cup  was  one  of  the  presents  made  to  King  Mark  by  Tris- 


17.  HIND  HORN 


199 


service  of  his  king  three  days  after  his  mar¬ 
riage.  He  gives  back  her  ring  to  his  wife, 
and  tells  her  he  must  go  to  the  wars  for  nine 
years.  Should  he  not  return  in  nine  years 
and  nine  days,  he  bids  her  marry.  The  young 
wife  says  nothing,  waits  her  nine  years  and 
nine  days,  and  then,  since  she  is  much  sought 
for,  her  father  wishes  her  to  marry.  She  says 
nothing,  again,  and  they  prepare  for  the  bridal. 
Costantino,  sleeping  in  the  king’s  palace,  has 
a  bad  dream,  which  makes  him  heave  a  sigh 
that  comes  to  his  sovereign’s  ear.  The  king 
summons  all  his  soldiers,  and  inquires  who 
heaved  that  sigh.  Costantino  confesses  it  was 
he,  and  says  it  was  because  his  wife  was  mar¬ 
rying.  The  king  orders  him  to  take  the  swift¬ 
est  horse  and  make  for  his  home.  Costantino 
meets  his  father,  and  learns  that  his  dream  is 
true,  presses  on  to  the  church,  arrives  at  the 
door  at  the  same  time  as  the  bridal  procession, 
and  offers  himself  for  a  bride’s-man.  When 
they  come  to  the  exchange  of  rings,  Costantino 
contrives  that  his  ring  shall  remain  on  the 
bride’s  finger.  She  knows  the  ring  ;  her  tears 
burst  forth.  Costantino  declares  himself  as 
having  been  already  crowned  with  the  lady.* 
Camarda,  Appendice  al  Saggio  di  Grammato- 
logia,  etc.,  90-97,  a  Calabrian-Albanese  copy. 
There  is  a  Sicilian,  but  incomplete,  in  Vigo, 
Canti  popolari  siciliani,  p.  342  ff,  ed.  1857,  p. 
695  ff,  ed.  1870-74. 

With  this  belongs  a  ballad,  very  common 
in  Greece,  which,  however,  has  for  the  most 
part  lost  even  more  of  what  was  in  all  prob¬ 
ability  the  original  catastrophe.  ‘  'Avayvwpta- 
/*<>;,’  Chasiotis,  Popular  Songs  of  Epirus,  p.  88, 
No  27,  comes  nearer  the  common  story  than 
other  versions.!  A  man  who  had  been  twelve 
years  a  slave  after  being  a  bridegroom  of 
three  days,  dreams  that  his  wife  is  marrying, 

trera’s  envoy,  and  is  transferred  to  Ysonde  by  Scott.  The 
passage  has  been  cited  as  ancient  and  genuine. 

*  In  the  Greek  rite,  rings  are  used  in  the  betrothal,  which 
as  a  rule  immediately  precedes  the  marriage.  The  rings 
are  exchanged  by  the  priest  and  sponsors  (Camarda  says 
three  times).  Crowns,  of  vine  twigs,  etc.,  are  the  emblems 
in  the  nuptial  ceremony,  and  these  are  also  changed  from 
one  head  to  the  other. 

t  I  was  guided  to  nearly  all  these  Greek  ballads  by  Pro¬ 
fessor  Liebrecht’s  notes,  Zur  Volkskunde,  p.  207. 


runs  to  the  cellar,  and  begins  to  sing  dirges. 
The  king  hears,  and  is  moved.  “  If  it  is  one 
of  the  servants,  increase  his  pay ;  if  a  slave, 
set  him  free.”  The  slave  tells  his  story  (in 
three  lines)  ;  the  king  bids  him  take  a  swift 
gray.  The  slave  asks  the  horses,  which  is  a 
swift  gray.  Only  one  answers,  an  old  steed 
with  forty  wounds.  “  I  am  a  swift  gray  ;  tie 
two  or  three  handkerchiefs  around  your  head, 
and  tie  yourself  to  my  back  !  ”  J  He  comes 
upon  his  father  pruning  the  vineyard.  “  Whose 
sheep  are  those  feeding  in  the  meadows  ?  ” 
“  My  lost  son’s.”  He  comes  to  his  mother. 
“  What  bride  are  they  marrying  ?  ”  “  My  lost 
son’s.”  u  Shall  I  get  to  them  in  church  while 
they  are  crowning  ?  ”  “  If  you  have  a  fast 

horse,  you  will  find  them  crowning ;  if  you 
have  a  bad  horse,  you  will  find  them  at  ta¬ 
ble.”  He  finds  them  at  church,  and  calls  out, 
A  bad  way  ye  have :  why  do  ye  not  bring  out 
the  bride,  so  that  strangers  may  give  her  the 
cup  ?  A  good  way  we  have,  they  answer, 
we  who  bring  out  the  bride,  and  strangers 
give  her  the  cup.  Then  he  takes  out  his  ring, 
while  he  is  about  to  present  the  cup  to  the 
bride.  The  bride  can  read  ;  she  stands  and 
reads  (his  name),  and  bids  the  company  be¬ 
gone,  for  her  mate  has  come,  the  first  crowned. 

In  other  cases  we  find  the  hero  in  prison. 
He  was  put  in  for  thirty  days  ;  the  keys  are 
lost,  and  he  stays  thirty  years.  Legrand,  p. 
326,  No  145  ;  N£oeAA?;viKd  ’AvdAeKTa,  i,  85,  No  19. 
More  frequently  he  is  a  galley  slave :  Zam- 
belios,  p.  678,  No  103  =  Passow,  No  448; 
Tommaseo,  m,  152  =  Passow,  No  449 ;  Sa- 
kellarios,  Ku7rpia/<d,  in,  37,  No  13 :  NeoeAA^i/iKa 
’Ai'dAt/cm,  i,  86,  No  20 ;  Jeannaraki,  "Ao-para 
Kprp-LKa,  p.  203,  No  265.  His  bad  dream  [a 
letter  from  home]  makes  him  heave  a  sigh 
which  shakes  the  prison,  or  stops  [splits]  the 

$  This  high-mettled  horse  is  a  capital  figure  in  most  ot 
the  versions.  In  one  of  them  the  caution  is  given,  “  Do  not 
feel  safe  in  spurring  him  :  he  will  scatter  thy  brains  ten  ells 
below  the  ground.”  The  gray  (otherwise  the  black)  is  of 
the  same  breed  as  the  Russian  Dobrynya’s,  a  little  way  on  ;  or 
the  foal  that  took  Charles  the  Great,  under  similar  circum¬ 
stances,  from  Passau  to  Aachen  between  morn  and  eve, 
(‘  Karl  der  Grosse,’  from  Enenkels  Weltbuch,  c.  1250,  in 
von  der  Hagen’s  Gesammtabenteuer,  it,  619  AT) ;  or  the 
black  in  the  poem  and  tale  of  Thedel  von  Walmoden. 


200 


17.  HIND  HORN 


galley.*  In  Tommaseo,  m,  152,  on  reaching 
the  church,  he  cries,  “  Stand  aside,  gentlemen, 
stand  aside,  my  masters  ;  let  the  bride  pour 
for  me.”  She  pours  him  one  cup  and  two,  and 
exclaims  (the  ring  which  was  dropped  into 
the  cup  having  dropped  out  of  the  story),  My 
John  has  come  back  !  Then  they  both  “  go 
out  like  candles.”  In  Sakellarios  they  embrace 
and  fall  dead,  and  when  laid  in  the  grave  come 
up  as  a  cypress  and  a  citron  tree.  In  the  Cretan 
ballad  John  does  not  dismount,  but  takes  the 
bride  on  to  the  horse  and  is  off' with  her;  so 
in  the  beautiful  ballad  in  Fauriel,  II,  140,  No 
11,  ‘  'H  'A pvrayr/,’  “  peut-etre  la  plus  distingufSe 
de  ce  recueil,”  which  belongs  with  this  group, 
but  seems  to  be  later  at  the  beginning  and  the 
end.  Even  here  the  bride  takes  a  cup  to  pour 
a  draught  for  the  horseman. 

In  Russia  the  ring  story  is  told  of  Dobrynya 
and  Nastasya.  Dobrynya,  sent  out  shortly 
after  his  marriage  to  collect  tribute  for  Vladi¬ 
mir,  requests  Nastasya  to  wait  for  him  twelve 
years :  then  she  may  wed  again,  so  it  be  not 
with  Alesha.  Twelve  years  pass.  Alesha 
avows  that  he  has  seen  Dobrynya’s  corpse 
lying  on  the  steppe,  and  sues  for  her  hand. 
Vladimir  supports  the  suit,  and  Nastasya  is 
constrained  to  accept  this  prohibited  husband. 
Dobrynya’s  horse  [two  doves,  a  pilgrim]  re¬ 
veals  to  his  master  what  is  going  on,  and  car¬ 
ries  him  home  with  marvellous  speed.  Do¬ 
brynya  gains  admittance  to  the  wedding-feast 
in  the  guise  of  a  merry-maker,  and  so  pleases 
Vladimir  with  his  singing  that  he  is  allowed 
to  sit  where  he  likes.  He  places  himself  op¬ 
posite  Nastasya,  drops  his  ring  in  a  cup,  and 
asks  her  to  drink  to  him.  She  finds  the  ring  in 

*  In  Jeannaraki  the  bey  says,  “  My  slave,  give  us  a  song, 
and  I  will  free  you.”  John  sings  of  his  love,  whom  he  was 
to  lose  that  day.  So  Zambelios,  as  above,  Tommaseo,  p. 
152,  and  Neo.  ’Avd\.  No.  20.  Compare  Brunswick,  in 
Wyssenhere,  and  Moringer. 

t  Otherwise  :  Nastasya  waits  six  years,  as  desired  ;  is  told 
that  Dobrynya  is  dead  and  is  urged  to  marry  Alesha;  will 
not  hear  of  marriage  for  six  years  more ;  Vladimir  then  inter¬ 
poses.  Dobrynya  is  furious,  as  these  absentees  are  sometimes 
pleased  to  be.  He  complains  that  women  have  long  hair 
and  short  wits,  and  so  does  Brunswick  in  Wyssenhere’s 
poem,  st.  89.  Numerous  as  are  the  instances  of  these  long 
absences,  the  woman  is  rarely,  if  ever,  represented  as  in  the 
least  to  blame.  The  behavior  of  the  man,  on  the  other  hand, 


the  bottom,  falls  at  his  feet  and  implores  par¬ 
don.  f  Wollner,  Volksepik  der  Grossrussen, 
p.  122  f  ;  Rambaud,  La  Russie  Epique,  p.  86  f. 

We  have  the  ring  employed  somewhat  after 
the  fashion  of  these  western  tales  in  Soma- 
deva’s  story  of  Vidushaka.  The  Vidyudh&rf 
Bhadrd,  having  to  part  for  a  while  with  Vi¬ 
dushaka,  for  whom  she  had  conceived  a  pas¬ 
sion,  gives  him  her  ring.  Subsequently,  Vi¬ 
dushaka  obliges  a  rakshas  whom  he  has  subdued 
to  convey  him  to  the  foot  of  a  mountain  on 
which  Bhadra  had  taken  refuge.  Many  beau¬ 
tiful  girls  come  to  fetch  water  in  golden  pitch¬ 
ers  from  a  lake,  and,  on  inquiring,  Vidushaka 
finds  that  the  water  is  for  Bhadrd.  One  of 
the  girls  asks  him  to  lift  her  pitcher  on  to  her 
shoulder,  and  while  doing  this  he  drops  into 
the  pitcher  BhadrVs  ring.  When  the  water 
is  poured  on  Bhadra’s  hands,  the  ring  falls 
out.  Bhadrd  asks  her  maids  if  they  have  seen 
a  stranger.  They  say  they  have  seen  a  mor¬ 
tal,  and  that  he  had  helped  one  of  them  with 
her  pitcher.  They  are  ordered  to  go  for  the 
youth  at  once,  for  he  is  Bhadra’s  consort.]: 

According  to  the  letter  of  the  ballads,  should 
the  ring  given  Horn  by  his  lady  turn  wan  or 
blue,  this  would  signify  that  she  loved  another 
man  :  but  though  accuracy  would  be  very  de¬ 
sirable  in  such  a  case,  these  words  are  rather 
loose,  since  she  never  faltered  in  her  love,  and 
submitted  to  marry  another,  so  far  as  she  sub¬ 
mitted,  only  under  constraint.  ‘  Horn  Child,’ 
sts  48,  71,  agrees  with  the  ballads  as  to  this 
point.  We  meet  a  ring  of  similar  virtue  in 
‘  Bonny  Bee-Horn,’  Jamieson’s  Popular  Bal¬ 
lads,  i,  187,  and  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North 
of  Scotland,  i,  169. 

is  in  some  cases  trying.  Thus,  the  Conde  Dirlos  tells  his 
young  wife  to  wait  for  him  seven  years,  and  if  he  does  not 
come  in  eight  to  marry  the  ninth.  He  accomplishes  the  ob¬ 
ject  of  his  expedition  in  three  years,  but  stays  fifteen,  never 
writes,  —  he  had  taken  an  unnecessary  oath  not  to  do  that 
before  he  started,  —  and  forbids  anybody  else  to  write,  on 
pain  of  death.  Such  is  his  humor ;  but  he  is  very  much  pro¬ 
voked  at  being  reported  dead.  Wolf  and  Hofmann,  Pri- 
mavera  y  Flor  de  Romances,  u,  129,  No  164. 

f  Katha  Sarit  Sagara  (of  the  early  part  of  the  12th  cen¬ 
tury),  Tawney’s  translation,  i,  136  ff.  The  story  is  cited  by 
Rajna,  in  Romania,  vi,  359.  Herr  v.  Bodman  leaves  his 
marriage  ring  in  a  wash-bowl !  Meier,  Deutsche  V.  m.  aus 
Schwaben,  214  f. 


17.  HIND  HORN 


201 


‘  But  gin  this  ring  should  fade  or  fail, 

Or  the  stone  should  change  its  hue, 

Be  sure  your  love  is  dead  and  gone, 

Or  she  has  proved  untrue.’ 

Jamieson,  p.  191. 

In  the  Roumanian  ballad,  ‘  Ring  and  Hand¬ 
kerchief,’  a  prince  going  to  war  gives  his  wife 
a  ring :  if  it  should  rust,  he  is  dead.  She  gives 
him  a  gold-embroidered  handkerchief :  if  the 
gold  melts,  she  is  dead.  Alecsandri,  Poesii 
pop.  ale  Romanilor,  p.  20,  No  7 ;  Stanley, 
Rouman  Anthology,  p.  16,  p.  193.  In  Gon- 
zenbach’s  Sicilianische  Marchen,  I,  39,  No  7,  a 
prince,  on  parting  with  his  sister,  gives  her  a 
ring,  saying,  So  long  as  the  stone  is  clear,  I 
am  well :  if  it  is  dimmed,  that  is  a  sign  that  I 
am  dead.  So  No  5,  at  p.  23.  A  young  man, 
in  a  Silesian  story,  receives  a  ring  from  his 


sweetheart,  with  the  assurance  that  he  can 
count  upon  her  faith  as  long  as  the  ring  holds  ; 
and  after  twenty  years’  detention  in  the  mines 
of  Siberia,  is  warned  of  trouble  by  the  ring’s 
breaking :  Goedsche,  Schlesischer  Sagen-  His- 
torien-  u.  Legendenschatz,  i,  37,  No  16.  So  in 
some  copies  of  ‘  Lamkin,’  the  lord  has  a  fore¬ 
boding  that  some  ill  has  happened  to  his  lady 
from  the  rings  on  his  fingers  bursting  in  twain  : 
Motherwell,  p.  291,  st.  23  ;  Finlay,  H,  47,  st. 
30.* 

Hind  Horn  is  translated  by  Grundtvig,  Eng. 
og  sk.  Folkeviser,  p.  274,  No  42,  mainly  after 
the  copy  in  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy  ;  by  Rosa 
Warrens,  Schottische  V.  1.  der  Vorzeit,  p.  161, 
No  37,  after  Buchan  (H)  ;  by  Knortz,  L.  u. 
R.  Alt-Englands,  p.  184,  No  52,  after  Ailing- 
ham. 


A 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  106.  From  Mrs  King,  Kilbarchan. 

1  In  Scotland  there  was  a  babie  born, 

Lill  lal,  etc. 

And  bis  name  it  was  called  young  Hind  Horn. 

With  a  fal  lal,  etc. 

2  He  sent  a  letter  to  our  king 

That  be  was  in  love  with  his  daughter  Jean. 

3  He ’s  gien  to  her  a  silver  wand, 

With  seven  living  lavrocks  sitting  thereon. 

4  She ’s  gien  to  him  a  diamond  ring, 

With  seven  bright  diamonds  set  therein. 

*  The  ring  given  Horn  by  Rymenhild,  in  ‘  King  Horn,’ 
579  ff  (Wissmann),  and  in  the  French  romance,  2056  ff,  pro¬ 
tects  him  against  material  harm  or  mishap,  or  assures  him 
superiority  in  fight,  as  long  as  he  is  faithful.  So  in  Buchan’s 
version  of  ‘  Bonny  Bee-Ho’m,’  st.  8  : 

‘  As  lang  ’a  this  ring ’s  your  body  on, 

Your  blood  shall  neer  be  drawn.’ 

“  The  king’s  daughter  of  Linne  ”  gives  her  champion  two 
rings,  one  of  which  renders  him  invulnerable,  and  the  other 
will  staunch  the  blood  of  any  of  his  men  who  may  be 
wounded  :  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  Introduction,  p.  lvii. 
Eglamore’s  ring,  Percy  MS.,  ii,  363,  st.  51,  will  preserve  his 
life  on  water  or  land.  A  ring  given  Wolfdietrich  by  the 

26 


5  ‘  When  this  ring  grows  pale  and  wan, 

You  may  know  by  it  my  love  is  gane.’ 

6  One  day  as  he  looked  his  ring  upon, 

He  saw  the  diamonds  pale  and  wan. 

7  He  left  the  sea  and  came  to  land, 

And  the  first  that  he  met  was  an  old  beggar 
man. 

8  ‘  What  news,  what  news  ?  ’  said  young  Hind 

Horn ; 

‘  No  news,  no  news,’  said  the  old  beggar  man. 

9  ‘  No  news,’  said  the  beggar,  ‘  no  news  at  a’, 
But  there  is  a  wedding  in  the  king’s  ha. 

empress,  D  vm,  st.  42,  ed.  Janicke,  doubles  his  strength 
and  makes  him  fire-proof  in  his  fight  with  the  dragon.  The 
ring  lent  Ywaine  by  his  lady  will  keep  him  from  prison, 
sickness,  loss  of  blood,  or  being  made  captive  in  battle,  and 
give  him  superiority  to  all  antagonists,  so  long  as  he  is  true 
in  love :  Ritson,  Met.  Rom.  i,  65,  vv  1533  ff.  But  an  In¬ 
dian  ring  which  Reinfrit  receives  from  his  wife  before  he  de¬ 
parts  for  the  crusade,  15,066  ff,  has  no  equal,  after  all ;  for, 
besides  doing  as  much  as  the  best  of  these,  it  imparts  per¬ 
petual  good  spirits.  It  is  interesting  to  know  that  this 
matchless  jewel  had  once  been  the  property  of  a  Scottish 
king,  and  was  given  by  him  to  his  daughter  when  she  was 
sent  to  Norway  to  be  married :  under  convoy  of  Sir  Patrick 
Spens  1 


17.  HIND  HORN 


202 

10  ‘  But  there  is  a  wedding  in  the  king’s  ha, 

That  has  lialden  these  forty  days  and  twa.’ 

11  ‘  Will  ye  lend  me  your  begging  coat  ? 

And  I  ’ll  lend  you  my  scarlet  cloak. 

12  ‘  Will  you  lend  me  your  beggar’s  rung  ? 

And  I  ’ll  gie  you  my  steed  to  ride  upon. 

13  ‘  Will  you  lend  me  your  wig  o  hair, 

To  cover  mine,  because  it  is  fair  ?  ’ 

14  The  auld  beggar  man  was  hound  for  the  mill, 
But  young  Hind  Horn  for  the  king’s  hall. 

15  The  auld  beggar  man  was  bound  for  to  ride, 
But  young  Hind  Horn  was  bound  for  the  bride. 

16  When  he  came  to  the  king’s  gate, 

He  sought  a  drink  for  Hind  Horn’s  sake. 

17  The  bride  came  down  with  a  glass  of  wine, 
When  he  drank  out  the  glass,  and  dropt  in  the 

ring. 


B 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  418.  From  the  singing  of  a  servant- 
girl  at  Halkhead. 

1  I  never  saw  my  love  before, 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  ho  lo  lan 
Till  I  saw  her  thro  an  oger  bore. 

With  a  hey  down  and  a  hey  diddle  downie 

2  She  gave  to  me  a  gay  gold  ring, 

With  three  shining  diamonds  set  therein. 

3  And  I  gave  to  her  a  silver  wand, 

With  three  singing  lavrocks  set  thereon. 

4  ‘  What  if  these  diamonds  lose  their  hue, 

Just  when  your  love  begins  for  to  rew  ?  ’ 

5  He ’s  left  the  land,  and  he ’s  gone  to  sea, 

And  he ’s  stayd  there  seven  years  and  a  day. 

6  But  when  he  looked  this  ring  upon, 

The  shining  diamonds  were  both  pale  and 
wan. 


18  ‘  O  got  ye  this  by  sea  or  land  ? 

Or  got  ye  it  off  a  dead  man’s  hand  ?  ’ 

19  ‘  I  got  not  it  by  sea,  I  got  it  by  land, 

And  I  got  it,  madam,  out  of  your  own 
hand.’ 

20  ‘  O  I  ’ll  cast  off  my  gowns  of  brown, 

And  beg  wi  you  frae  town  to  town. 

21  ‘  O  I  ’ll  cast  off  my  gowns  of  red, 

And  I  ’ll  beg  wi  you  to  win  my  bread.’ 

22  ‘Ye  needna  cast  off  your  gowns  of  brown, 

For  I  ’ll  make  you  lady  o  many  a  town. 

23  ‘Ye  needna  cast  off  your  gowns  of  red, 

It ’s  only  a  sham,  the  begging  o  my  bread.’ 

24  The  bridegroom  he  had  wedded  the  bride, 

But  young  Hind  Horn  he  took  her  to  bed. 


7  He ’s  left  the  seas  and  he ’s  come  to  the  land, 
And  there  he  met  with  an  auld  beggar  man. 

8  ‘  What  news,  what  news,  thou  auld  beggar  man 
For  it  is  seven  years  sin  I  ’ve  seen  lan.’ 

9  ‘  No  news,’  said  the  old  beggar  man,  ‘  at  all, 
But  there  is  a  wedding  in  the  king’s  hall.’ 

10  ‘  Wilt  thou  give  to  me  thy  begging  coat  ? 

And  I  ’ll  give  to  thee  my  scarlet  cloak. 

11  ‘  Wilt  thou  give  to  me  thy  begging  staff  ? 

And  I  ’ll  give  to  thee  my  good  gray  steed.’ 

12  The  old  beggar  man  was  bound  for  to  ride, 

But  Young  Hynd  Horn  was  bound  for  the 

bride. 

13  When  he  came  to  the  king’s  gate, 

He  asked  a  drink  for  Young  Hynd  Horn’s  sake. 

14  The  news  unto  the  bonnie  bride  came 
That  at  the  yett  there  stands  an  auld  man. 


17.  HIND  HORN 


203 


15  ‘  There  stands  an  auld  man  at  the  king’s  gate  ; 
He  asketh  a  drink  for  young  Hyn  Horn’s  sake.’ 

16  ‘  I  ’ll  go  thro  nine  fires  so  hot. 

But  I  ’ll  give  him  a  drink  for  Young  Hyn  Horn’s 
sake.’ 

17  She  gave  him  a  drink  out  of  her  own  hand  ; 
He  drank  out  the  drink  and  he  dropt  in  the 

ring. 

18  ‘  Got  thou ’t  by  sea,  or  got  thou ’t  by  land  ? 

Or  got  thou ’t  out  of  any  dead  man’s  hand  ?  ’ 

19  ‘  I  got  it  not  by  sea,  but  I  got  it  by  land, 

For  I  got  it  out  of  thine  own  hand.’ 


20  ‘  I  ’ll  cast  off  my  gowns  of  brown, 

And  I  ’ll  follow  thee  from  town  to  town. 

21  ‘  I  ’ll  cast  off  my  gowns  of  red, 

And  along  with  thee  I  ’ll  beg  my  bread.’ 

22  ‘  Thou  need  not  cast  off  thy  gowns  of  brown, 
For  I  can  make  thee  lady  of  many  a  town. 

23  ‘  Thou  need  not  cast  off  thy  gowns  of  red, 

For  I  can  maintain  thee  with  both  wine  and 

bread.’ 

24  The  bridegroom  thought  he  had  the  bonnie 

bride  wed, 

But  Young  Hyn  Horn  took  the  bride  to  bed. 


c 

a.  Motherwell’s  Note-Book,  p.  42 :  from  Agnes  Lyle.  b. 
Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  413  :  from  the  singing  of  Agnes  Lyle, 
Kilbarchan,  August  24,  1825. 

1  Young  Hyn  Horn ’s  to  the  king’s  court  gone, 

Hoch  hey  and  an  ney  O 
He ’s  fallen  in  love  with  his  little  daughter 
Jean. 

Let  my  love  alone,  I  pray  you 

2  He ’s  bocht  to  her  a  little  gown, 

With  seven  broad  flowers  spread  it  along. 

3  She ’s  given  to  him  a  gay  gold  ring. 

The  posie  upon  it  was  richt  plain. 

4  ‘  When  you  see  it  losing  its  comely  hue, 

So  will  I  my  love  to  you.’ 

5  Then  ■within  a  little  wee, 

Hyn  Horn  left  land  and  went  to  sea. 

6  When  he  lookt  his  ring  upon, 

He  saw  it  growing  pale  and  wan. 

7  Then  within  a  little  [wee]  again, 

Hyn  Horn  left  sea  and  came  to  the  land. 

8  As  he  was  riding  along  the  way, 

There  he  met  with  a  jovial  beggar. 


9  ‘  What  news,  what  news,  old  man  ?  ’  he  did  say : 
‘  This  is  the  king’s  young  dochter’s  wedding 
day.’ 

10  ‘  If  this  be  true  you  tell  to  me, 

You  must  niffer  clothes  with  me. 

11  ‘You  ’ll  gie  me  your  cloutit  coat, 

I  ’ll  gie  you  my  fine  velvet  coat. 

12  ‘You  ’ll  gie  me  your  cloutit  pock, 

I  ’ll  gie  you  my  purse  ;  it  ’ll  be  no  joke.’ 

13  ‘  Perhaps  there[’s]  nothing  in  it,  not  one  baw¬ 

bee  ;  ’ 

‘  Yes,  there ’s  gold  and  silver  both,’  said  he. 

14  ‘You  ’ll  gie  me  your  bags  of  bread, 

And  I  ’ll  gie  you  my  milk-white  steed.’ 

15  When  they  had  niffered  all,  he  said, 

‘  You  maun  learn  me  how  I  ’ll  beg.’ 

16  ‘  When  you  come  before  the  gate, 

You  ’ll  ask  for  a  drink  for  the  highman’s  sake.’ 

17  When  that  he  came  before  the  gate, 

He  calld  for  a  drink  for  the  highman’s  sake. 

18  The  bride  cam  tripping  down  the  stair, 

To  see  whaten  a  bold  beggar  was  there. 


204  IT.  HIND 

19  She  gave  him  a  drink  with  her  own  hand  ; 

He  loot  the  ring  drop  in  the  can. 

20  ‘  Got  ye  this  by  sea  or  land  ? 

Or  took  ye ’t  aff  a  dead  man’s  hand  ?  ’ 

21  ‘  I  got  na  it  by  sea  nor  land, 

But  I  got  it  aff  your  own  hand.’ 

D 

Cromek’s  Select  Scotish  Songs,  n,  204. 

1  Near  Edinburgh  was  a  young  son  horn, 

Hey  lilelu  an  a  how  low  lan 
An  his  name  it  was  called  young  Hyn  Horn. 

An  it ’s  hey  down  down  deedle  airo 

2  Seven  long  years  he  served  the  king, 

An  it ’s  a’  for  the  sake  of  his  daughter  Jean. 

3  The  king  an  angry  man  was  he ; 

He  send  young  Hyn  Horn  to  the  sea. 

***** 

4  An  on  his  finger  she  put  a  ring. 

•  •  •  •  • 

•7V  TT  *7v  TV* 

5  ‘  When  your  ring  turns  pale  and  wan, 

Then  I ’m  in  love  wi  another  man.’ 

***** 

6  Upon  a  day  he  lookd  at  his  ring, 

It  was  as  pale  as  anything. 

7  He  ’&  left  the  sea,  an  he ’s  come  to  the  lan, 

An  there  he  met  an  auld  beggar  man. 

8  ‘  What  news,  what  news,  my  auld  beggar  man  ? 
What  news,  what  news,  by  sea  or  by  lan  ?  ’ 


HORN 

22  The  bridegroom  cam  tripping  down  the  stair, 
But  there  was  neither  bride  nor  beggar  there. 

23  Her  ain  bridegroom  had  her  first  wed, 

But  Young  Hyn  Horn  had  her  first  to  bed. 


9  ‘  Nae  news,  nae  news,’  the  auld  beggar  said, 

‘  But  the  king’s  dochter  Jean  is  going  to  be 
wed.’ 

10  ‘  Cast  off,  cast  off  thy  auld  beggar-weed, 

An  I  ’ll  gie  thee  my  gude  gray  steed.’ 

***** 

11  When  he  cam  to  our  guid  king’s  yet, 

He  sought  a  glass  o  wine  for  young  Hyn  Horn’s 
sake. 

12  He  drank  out  the  wine,  an  he  put  in  the  ring, 
An  he  bade  them  carry ’t  to  the  king’s  dochter 

Jean. 

***** 

13  ‘  O  gat  ye ’t  by  sea,  or  gat  ye ’t  by  lan  ? 

Or  gat  ye ’t  aff  a  dead  man’s  han  ?  ’ 

14  ‘  I  gat  na ’t  by  sea,  I  gat  na ’t  by  lan, 

But  I  gat  it  out  of  your  own  han.’ 

***** 

15  ‘Go  take  away  my  bridal  gown, 

For  I  ’ll  follow  him  frae  town  to  town.’ 

16  ‘Ye  need  na  leave  your  bridal  gown, 

For  I  ’ll  make  ye  ladie  o’  mony  a  town.’ 


E 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  91.  From  the  recitation  of  Mrs 
Wilson. 

***** 

1  Hynd  Horn  he  has  lookt  on  his  ring, 

Hey  ninny  ninny,  how  ninny  nanny 
And  it  was  baith  black  and  blue, 

And  she  is  either  dead  or  she ’s  married. 

And  the  barck  and  the  broom  blooms  bon- 


2  Hynd  Horn  he  has  shuped  to  land, 

And  the  first  he  met  was  an  auld  beggar  man. 

3  ‘  What  news,  what  news,  my  silly  auld  man  ? 
For  it  is  seven  years  syne  I  have  seen  land. 

4  ‘  What  news,  what  news,  my  auld  beggar  man  ? 
What  news,  what  news,  by  sea  or  by  land  ?  ’ 

5  ‘  There  is  a  king’s  dochter  in  the  east, 

And  she  has  been  marryed  these  nine  nights 
past. 


me 


6  ‘  Intil  the  bride’s  bed  she  winna  gang 
Till  she  hears  tell  of  her  Hynd  Horn.’ 


17.  HIND  HORN 


205 


7  ‘  Cast  aff,  cast  aff  thy  auld  beggar  weed, 
And  I  will  gie  thee  my  gude  gray  steed.’ 


F 

Lowran  Castle,  or  the  Wild  Boar  of  Curridoo :  with 
other  Tales.  By  Robert  Trotter,  Dumfries,  1822,  p.  6. 
From  the  recitation  of  a  young  friend. 

% 

1  In  Newport  town  this  knight  was  born, 

Hey  lily  loo,  hey  loo  lan 
And  they  ’ve  called  him  Young  Hynd  Horn. 

Fal  lal  la,  fal  the  dal  the  dady 

2  Seven  long  years  he  served  the  king, 

For  the  love  of  his  daughter  Jean. 

3  He  courted  her  through  a  wimble  bore, 

The  way  never  woman  was  courted  before. 

4  He  gave  her  through  a  silver  wand, 

With  thrqe  singing  laverocks  there  upon. 

5  She  gave  him  back  a  gay  gold  ring, 

With  three  bright  diamonds  glittering. 

6  4  When  this  ring  grows  pale  and  blue, 

Fair  Jeanie’s  love  is  lost  to  you.’ 


G 

Kinloch’s  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  135.  “From  the 
recitation  of  my  niece,  M.  Kinnear,  23  Aug‘,  1826:”  the 
north  of  Scotland. 

1  4  Hynde  Horn ’s  bound  love,  and  Hynde 

Horn ’s  free, 

Whare  was  ye  born,  or  in  what  countrie  ?  ’ 

2  4  In  gude  greenwud  whare  I  was  born, 

And  all  my  friends  left  me  forlorn. 

3  ‘  I  gave  my  love  a  silver  wand  ; 

That  was  to  rule  oure  all  Scotland. 

4  4  My  love  gave  me  a  gay  gowd  ring  ; 

That  was  to  rule  abune  a’  tiling.’ 

5  ‘  As  lang  as  that  ring  keeps  new  in  hue, 

Ye  may  ken  that  your  love  loves  you. 

6  ‘  But  whan  that  ring  turns  pale  and  wan, 

Ye  may  ken  that  your  love  loves  anither  man.’ 


7  Young  Hynd  Horn  is  gone  to  sea, 

And  there  seven  long  years  staid  he. 

8  When  he  lookd  his  ring  upon, 

It  grew  pale  and  it  grew  wan. 

9  Young  Hynd  Horn  is  come  to  land, 

When  he  met  an  old  beggar  man. 

10  4  What  news,  what  news  doth  thee  betide  ?  ’ 

4  No  news,  but  Princess  Jeanie ’s  a  bride.’ 

11  4  Will  ye  give  me  your  old  brown  cap  ? 

And  I  ’ll  give  you  my  gold-laced  hat. 

12  4  Will  ye  give  me  your  begging  weed? 

And  I  ’ll  give  you  my  good  grey  steed.’ 

13  The  beggar  has  got  on  to  ride, 

But  Young  Hynd  Horn ’s  bound  for  the  bride. 
*  *  .  #  *  * 


7  He  hoisted  up  his  sails,  and  away  sailed  he, 
Till  that  he  cam  to  a  foreign  countrie. 

8  He  looked  at  his  ring  ;  it  was  turnd  pale  and 

wan ; 

He  said,  4 1  wish  I  war  at  hame  again.’ 

9  He  hoisted  up  his  sails,  and  hame  sailed  he, 
Until  that  he  came  to  his  ain  countrie. 

10  The  first  ane  that  he  met  wi 
Was  wi  a  puir  auld  beggar  man. 

11  4  What  news,  what  news,  my  silly  old  man  ? 
What  news  hae  ye  got  to  tell  to  me  ?  ’ 

12  4  Na  news,  na  news,’  the  puir  man  did  say, 
‘But  this  is  our  queen’s  wedding  day.’ 

13  4  Ye  ’ll  lend  me  your  begging  weed, 

And  I  ’ll  gie  you  my  riding  steed.’ 


206 


17.  HIND  HORN 


14  ‘  My  begging  weed  is  na  for  thee, 

Your  riding  steed  is  na  for  me.’ 

15  But  he  has  changed  wi  the  beggar  man, 

•  •  •  •  • 

16  ‘  Which  is  the  gate  that  ye  used  to  gae  ? 

And  what  are  the  words  ye  beg  wi  ?  ’ 

17  ‘  Whan  ye  come  to  yon  high  hill, 

Ye  ’ll  draw  your  bent  bow  nigh  until. 

18  ‘  Whan  ye  come  to  yonder  town, 

Ye  ’ll  let  your  bent  bow  low  fall  down. 

19  ‘Ye  ’ll  seek  meat  for  St  Peter,  ask  for  St 

Paul, 

And  seek  for  the  sake  of  Hynde  Horn  all. 

20  ‘  But  tak  ye  frae  nane  of  them  a’, 

Till  ye  get  frae  the  bonnie  bride  hersel  0.’ 

21  Whan  he  cam  to  yon  high  hill, 

He  drew  his  bent  bow  nigh  until. 

22  And  whan  he  cam  to  yonder  town, 

He  lute  his  bent  bow  low  fall  down. 

23  He  saught  meat  for  St  Peter,  he  askd  for  St 

Paul, 

And  he  sought  for  the  sake  of  Hynde  Horn 
all. 

24  But  he  would  tak  frae  nane  o  them  a’, 

Till  he  got  frae  the  boimie  bride  hersel  O. 


H 

Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii,  268. 

1  ‘  Hynd  Horn  fair,  and  Hynd  Horn  free, 

O  where  were  you  born,  in  what  countrie  ?  ’ 

2  ‘  In  gude  greenwood,  there  I  was  born, 

And  all  my  Eorbears  me  beforn. 

3  ‘  0  seven  years  I  served  the  king, 

And  as  for  wages,  I  never  gat  nane  ; 

4  ‘  But  ae  sight  o  his  ae  daughter, 

And  that  was  thro  an  augre  bore. 


The  bride  cam  tripping  doun  the  stair, 

Wi  the  scales  o  red  gowd  on  her  hair. 

Wi  a  glass  of  red  wine  in  her  hand, 

To  gie  to  the  puir  auld  beggar  man. 

It ’s  out  he  drank  the  glass  o  wine, 

And  into  the  glass  he  dropt  the  ring. 

‘  Got  ye ’t  by  sea,  or  got  ye ’t  by  land, 

Or  got  ye ’t  aff  a  drownd  man’s  hand  ?  ’ 

‘  I  got  na ’t  by  sea,  I  got  na ’t  by  land, 

Nor  got  I  it  aff  a  drownd  man’s  hand. 

‘  But  I  got  it  at  my  wooing, 

And  I  ’ll  gie  it  at  your  wedding.’ 

‘  I  ’ll  tak  the  scales  o  gowd  frae  my  head, 

I  ’ll  follow  you,  and  beg  my  bread. 

‘  I  ’ll  tak  the  scales  of  gowd  frae  my  hair,  * 

I  ’ll  follow  you  for  evermair.’ 

She  has  tane  the  scales  o  gowd  frae  her  head, 
She  has  followed  him  to  beg  her  bread. 

She  has  tane  the  scales  o  gowd  frae  her  hair, 
And  she  has  followed  him  for  evermair. 

But  atween  the  kitchen  and  the  ha, 

There  he  lute  his  cloutie  cloak  fa. 

And  the  red  gowd  shined  oure  him  a’, 

And  the  bride  frae  the  bridegroom  was  stown 

tiWcU 


‘  My  love  gae  me  a  siller  wand, 

’T  was  to  rule  ower  a’  Scotland. 

‘  And  she  gae  me  a  gay  gowd  ring, 

The  virtue  o ’t  was  above  a’  thing.’ 

‘  As  lang ’s  this  ring  it  keeps  the  hue, 
Ye  ’ll  know  I  am  a  lover  true  : 

‘  But  when  the  ring  turns  pale  and  wan, 
Ye  ’ll  know  I  love  another  man.’ 

He  hoist  up  sails,  and  awa  saild  he, 

And  saild  into  a  far  countrie. 


25 

26 

27 

28 

29 

30 

31 

32 

33 

34 

35 

36 

5 

6 

7 

8 

9 


17.  HIND  HORN 


207 


10  And  when  he  lookd  upon  his  ring, 

He  knew  she  loved  another  man. 

11  He  hoist  up  sails  and  home  came  he, 

Home  unto  his  ain  countrie. 

12  The  first  he  met  on  his  own  land, 

It  chancd  to  be  a  beggar  man. 

13  ‘  What  news,  what  news,  my  gude  auld  man  ? 
What  news,  what  news,  hae  ye  to  me  ?  ’ 

14  ‘  Nae  news,  nae  news,’  said  the  auld  man, 

‘  The  morn’s  our  queen’s  wedding  day.’ 

15  ‘Will  ye  lend  me  your  begging  weed  ? 

And  I  ’ll  lend  you  my  riding  steed.’ ' 

16  ‘  My  begging  weed  will  ill  suit  thee, 

And  your  riding  steed  will  ill  suit  me.’ 

17  But  part  be  right,  and  part  be  wrang, 

Frae  the  beggar  man  the  cloak  he  wan. 

18  ‘  Auld  man,  come  tell  to  me  your  leed ; 

What  news  ye  gie  when  ye  beg  your  bread.’ 

19  ‘  As  ye  walk  up  unto  the  hill, 

Your  pike  staff  ye  lend  ye  till. 

20  ‘  But  whan  ye  come  near  by  the  yett, 

Straight  to  them  ye  will  upstep. 

21  ‘  Take  nane  frae  Peter,  nor  frae  Paul, 

Nane  frae  high  or  low  o  them  all. 

22  ‘  And  frae  them  all  ye  will  take  nane, 

Until  it  comes  frae  the  bride’s  ain  hand.’ 


A.  I2,  81,  142,  152,  162,  242.  Hindhorn. 

B.  The  burden  is  given  in  Motherwell,  Appendix, 
p.  xviii,  thus  : 

With  a  hey  lilloo  and  a  how  lo  lan 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

122,  132.  Hyndliorn.  152,  162,  242.  Hynhorn. 

C.  a.  52.  to  see.  52,  72.  Hynhorn.  232.  H.  horn. 
II1.  clouted. 

II1,  141.  give. 


23  He  took  nane  frae  Peter  nor  frae  Paul, 
Nane  frae  the  high  nor  low  o  them  all. 

24  And  frae  them  all  he  would  take  nane, 
Until  it  came  frae  the  bride’s  ain  hand. 

25  The  bride  came  tripping  down  the  stair, 
The  combs  o  red  gowd  in  her  hair. 

26  A  cup  o  red  wine  in  her  hand, 

And  that  she  gae  to  the  beggar  man. 

27  Out  o  the  cup  he  drank  the  wine, 

And  into  the  cup  he  dropt  the  ring. 

28  ‘  O  got  ye ’t  by  sea,  or  got  ye’t  by  land, 
Or  got  ye ’t  on  a  drownd  man’s  hand  ?  ’ 

29  ‘  I  got  it  not  by  sea,  nor  got  it  by  land, 
Nor  got  I  it  on  a  drownd  man’s  hand. 

30  ‘  But  I  got  it  at  my  wooing  gay, 

And  I  ’ll  gie ’t  you  on  your  wedding  day.’ 

31  ‘  I  ’ll  take  the  red  gowd  frae  my  head, 
And  follow  you,  and  beg  my  bread. 

32  ‘  I  ’ll  take  the  red  gowd  frae  my  hair, 

And  follow  you  for  evermair.’ 

33  Atween  the  kitchen  and  the  ha, 

He  loot  his  cloutie  cloak  down  fa. 

34  And  wi  red  gowd  shone  ower  them  a’, 
And  frae  the  bridegroom  the  bride  he  sta. 


142.  white  milk.  b.  milk-white. 

162.  hymen’s,  b.  highman’s. 

221.  can. 

b.  52,  72,  232.  Hynhorn. 

71.  little  wee. 

131.  there ’s. 

D.  I2,  32,  ll2.  Hynhorn. 

E.  The  second  line  of  the  burden  stands  after  st.  2 
in  MS. 

21.  The  MS  reading  may  be  sheeped. 

21,  62.  Hyndliorn. 


208 


18.  SIR  LIONEL 


G.  After  my  niece,  M.  Kinnear,  etc.,  stands  in  pen¬ 
cil  Christy  Smith. 

15.  On  the  opposite  page ,  over  against  this 
stanza ,  is  written: 

But  part  by  richt,  or  part  be  wrang, 

The  auldman’s  duddie  cloak  he  ’s  on. 

G  and  H  are  printed  by  Kinloch  and  by 
Buchan  in  four-line  stanzas. 

The  stanzas  printed  by  Motherwell,  which 
have  not  been  found  in  his  manuscripts,  are: 


10  Seven  lang  years  he  has  been  on  the  sea, 
And  Hynd  Horn  has  looked  how  his  ring 
may  be. 

21  The  auld  beggar  man  cast  off  his  coat, 

And  he ’s  taen  up  the  scarlet  cloak. 

22  The  auld  beggar  man  threw  down  his  staff, 
And  he  has  mounted  the  good  gray  steed. 

29  She  went  to  the  gate  where  the  auld  man 
did  stand, 

And  she  gave  him  a  drink  out  of  her  own 
hand. 


18 

SIR  LIONEL. 


A.  4  Sir  Lionell,’  Percy  MS.,  p.  32,  Hales  and  Furni- 
vall,  i,  75. 

B.  4  Isaac-a-Bell  and  Hugh  the  Graeme,’  Christie,  Tra¬ 
ditional  Ballad  Airs,  i,  110. 

C.  a.  4  The  Jovial  Hunter  of  Bromsgrove,’  Allies,  The 
British,  Roman  and  Saxon  Antiquities  and  Folk-Lore 
of  Worcestershire,  2d  ed.,  p.  116.  b.  Bell’s  Ancient 


B  can  be  traced  in  Banffshire,  according  to 
Christie,  for  more  than  a  hundred  years, 
through  the  old  woman  that  sang  it,  and  her 
forbears.  C  a,  D  were  originally  published 
by  Allies  in  the  year  1845,  in  a  pamphlet 
bearing  the  title  The  Jovial  Hunter  of  Broms¬ 
grove,  Horne  the  Hunter,  and  Robin  Hood. 
No  intimation  as  to  the  source  of  his  copy, 
C  b,  is  given  by  Bell,  i.  e.,  Dixon.  Appar¬ 
ently  all  the  variations  from  Allies,  C  a,  are 
of  the  nature  of  editorial  improvements.  E  a 
is  said  (1857)  to  be  current  in  the  north  of 
England  as  a  nursery  song. 

One  half  of  A,  the  oldest  and  fullest  copy 
of  this  ballad  (the  second  and  fourth  quar¬ 
ters),  is  wanting  in  the  Percy  MS.  What 
we  can  gather  of  the  story  is  this.  A  knight 


Poems,  Ballads  and  Songs  of  the  Peasantry  of  Eng¬ 
land,  p.  124. 

D.  Allies,  as  above,  p.  118. 

E.  a.  ‘The  Old  Man  and  his  Three  Sons,’  Bell,  as 
above,  p.  250.  b.  Mr  Robert  White’s  papers. 

F.  Allies,  as  above,  p.  120. 


finds  a  lady  sitting  in  a  tree,  A,  C,  D  [under 
a  tree,  E] ,  who  tells  him  that  a  wild  boar  has 
slain  Sir  Broning,  A  [killed  her  ford  and  thirty 
of  his  men,  C  ;  worried  her  lord  £,nd  wounded 
thirty,  E].  The  knight  kills  thfe  boar,  B-D, 
and  seems  to  have  received  bad  wounds  in  the 
process,  A,  B  ;  the  boar  belonged  to  a  giant, 
B  ;  or  a  wild  woman,  C,  D.  The  knight  is 
required  to  forfeit  his  hawks  and  leash,  and 
the  little  finger  of  his  right  hand,  A  [his 
horse,  his  hound,  and  his  lady,  C].  He  re¬ 
fuses  to  submit  to  such  disgrace,  though  in  no 
condition  to  resist,  A ;  the  giant  allows  him 
time  to  heal  his  wounds,  forty  days,  A  ;  thirty- 
three,  B  ;  and  he  is  to  leave  his  lady  as  se¬ 
curity  for  his  return,  A.  At  the  end  of  this 
time  the  knight  comes  back  sound  and  well, 


18.  SIR  LIONEL 


209 


A,  B,  and  kills  the  giant  as  lie  bad  killed  the 
boar,  B.  C  and  D  say  nothing  of  the  knight 
having  been  wounded.  The  wild  woman,  to  re¬ 
venge  her  “  pretty  spotted  pig,”  flies  fiercely 
at  him,  and  he  cleaves  her  in  two.  The  last 
quarter  of  the  Percy  copy  would,  no  doubt, 
reveal  what  became  of  the  lady  who  was  sit¬ 
ting  in  the  tree,  as  to  which  the  traditional 
copies  give  no  light. 

Our  ballad  has  much  in  common  with  the 
romance  of  ‘  Sir  Eglamour  of  Artois,’  Percy 
MS.,  Hales  and  Furnivall,  n,  338;  Thornton 
Romances,  Camden  Society,  ed.  Halliwell,  p. 
121 ;  Ellis,  Metrical  Romances,  from  an  early 
printed  copy,  Bohn’s  ed.,  p.  527.  Eglamour, 
simple  knight,  loving  Christabel,  an  earl’s 
daughter,  is  required  by  the  father,  who  does 
not  wish  him  well,  to  do  three  deeds  of  arms, 
the  second  being  to  kill  a  boar  in  the  kingdom 
of  Sattin  or  Sydon,  which  had  been  known  to 
slay  forty  armed  knights  in  one  day  (Percy, 
st.  37).  This  Eglamour  does,  after  a  very  se¬ 
vere  fight.  The  boar  belonged  to  a  giant,  who 
had  kept  him  fifteen  years  to  slay  Christian 
men  (Thornton,  st.  42,  Percy,  40).  This  giant 
had  demanded  the  king  of  Sydon’s  daughter’s 
hand,  and  comes  to  carry  her  off,  by  force,  if 
necessary,  the  day  following  the  boar-fight. 
Eglamour,  who  had  been  found  by  the  king 
in  the  forest,  in  a  state  of  exhaustion,  after  a 
contest  which  had  lasted  to  the  third  or  fourth 
day,  and  had  been  taken  home  by  him  and 
kindly  cared  for,  is  now  ready  for  action  again. 
He  goes  to  the  castle  walls  with  a  squire, 
who  carries  the  boar’s  head  on  a  spear.  The 
giant,  seeing  the  head,  exclaims, 

‘  Alas,  art  thou  dead  ! 

My  trust  was  all  in  thee  ! 

Now  by  the  law  that  I  lieve  in, 

My  little  speckled  hoglin, 

Dear  bought  shall  thy  death  be.’ 

Percy,  st.  44. 

Eglamour  kills  the  giant,  and  returns  to  Ar¬ 
tois  with  both  heads.  The  earl  has  another 
adventure  ready  for  him,  and  hopes  the  third 
chance  may  quit  all.  Eglamour  asks  for  twelve 
weeks  to  rest  his  weary  body. 

B  comes  nearest  the  romance,  and  possibly 

27. 


even  the  wood  of  Tore  is  a  reminiscence  of  Ar¬ 
tois.  The  colloquy  with  the  giant  in  B  is  also, 
perhaps,  suggested  by  one  which  had  previous¬ 
ly  taken  place  between  Eglamour  and  another 
giant,  brother  of  this,  after  the  knight  had 
killed  one  of  his  harts  (Percy,  st.  25).  C  11, 
D  9  strikingly  resemble  the  passage  of  the  ro¬ 
mance  cited  above  (Percy,  44,  Thornton,  47). 

The  ballad  has  also  taken  up  something 
from  the  romance  of  ‘  Eger  and  Grime,’  Percy 
MS.,  Hales  and  Furnivall,  I,  341 ;  Laing,  Early 
Metrical  Tales,  p.  1 ;  ‘  Sir  Eger,  Sir  Grahame, 
and  Sir  Gray-Steel,’  Ellis’s  Specimens,  p.  546. 
Sir  Egrabell  (Rackabello,  Isaac-a-Bell),  Lio¬ 
nel’s  father,  recalls  Sir  Eger,  and  Hugh  the 
Graeme  in  B  is  of  course  the  Grahame  or 
Grime  of  the  romance,  the  Hugh  being  de¬ 
rived  from  a  later  ballad.  Gray-Steel,  a  man 
of  proof,  although  not  quite  a  giant,  cuts  off 
the  little  finger  of  Eger’s  right  hand,  as  the 
giant  proposes  to  do  to  Lionel  in  A  21. 

The  friar  in  E  l3,  41,  may  be  a  corruption 
of  Ryalas,  or  some  like  name,  as  the  first  line 
of  the  burden  of  E,  ‘Wind  well,  Lion,  good 
hunter,’  seems  to  be  a  perversion  of  ‘  Wind 
well  thy  horn,  good  hunter,’  in  C,  D.*  This 
part  of  the  burden,  especially  as  it  occurs  in 
A,  is  found,  nearly,  in  a  fragment  of  a  song 
of  the  time  of  Henry  VIII,  given  by  Mr 
Chappell  in  his  Popular  Music  of  the  Olden 
Time,  I,  58,  as  copied  from  “  MSS  Reg.,  Ap¬ 
pend.  58.” 

‘  Blow  thy  home,  hunter, 

Cum,  blow  thy  home  on  hye  ! 

In  yonder  wode  there  lyeth  a  doo, 

In  fayth  she  woll  not  dye. 

Cum,  blow  thy  home,  hunter, 

Cum,  blow  thy  home,  joly  hunter !  ’ 

A  terrible  swine  is  a  somewhat  favorite  fig¬ 
ure  in  romantic  tales.  A  worthy  peer  of  the 
boar  of  Sydon  is  killed  by  King  Arthur  in 
‘  The  Avowynge  of  King  Arthur,’  etc.,  Rob¬ 
son,  Three  Early  English  Metrical  Romances 
(see  st.  xii).  But  both  of  these,  and  even  the 
Erymanthian,  must  lower  their  bristles  before 

*  The  friar  might  also  be  borrowed  from  ‘The  Felon  Sow 
and  the  Friars  of  Richmond/  but  this  piece  does  not  appear 
to  have  been  extensively  known. 


210 


18.  SIR  LIONEL 


the  boar  in  ‘  Kilkwch  and  Ohven,’  Mabino- 
gion,  Part  iv,  pp.  309-16.  Compared  with 
any  of  these,  the  “  felon  sow  ”  presented  by 
Ralph  Rokeby  to  the  friars  of  Richmond 
(Evans,  Old  Ballads,  n,  270,  ed.  1810,  Scott, 
Appendix  to  Rokeby,  note  M)  is  a  tame  vil- 
latic  pig  :  the  old  mettle  is  bred  out. 

Professor  Grundtvig  has  communicated  to 
me  a  curious  Danish  ballad  of  this  class,  ‘  Lim- 
grises  Vise,’  from  a  manuscript  of  the  latter 
part  of  the  16th  century.  A  very  intractable 
damsel,  after  rejecting  a  multitude  of  aspi¬ 
rants,  at  last  marries,  with  the  boast  that  her 
progeny  shall  be  fairer  than  Christ  in  heaven. 
She  has  a  litter  of  nine  pups,  a  pig,  and  a  boy. 
The  pig  grows  to  be  a  monster,  and  a  scourge 
t'o  the  whole  region. 

He  drank  up  the  water  from  dike  and  from  dam, 

And  ate  up,  besides,  both  goose,  gris  and  lamb. 


The  beast  is  at  last  disposed  of  by  baiting 
him  with  the  nine  congenerate  dogs,  who 
jump  down  his  throat,  rend  liver  and  lights, 
and  find  their  death  there,  too.  This  ballad 
smacks  of  the  broadside,  and  is  assigned  to 
the  16th  century.  A  fragment  of  a  Swedish 
swine-ballad,  in  the  popular  tone,  is  given  by 
Dybeck,  Runa,  1845,  p.  23  ;  another,  very  sim¬ 
ilar,  in  Axelson’s  Vesterdalarne,  p.  179,  ‘  Kol- 
oregris,’  and  Professor  Sophus  Bugge  has  re¬ 
covered  some  Norwegian  verses.  The  Danish 
story  of  the  monstrous  birth  of  the  pig  has 
become  localized :  the  Liimfiord  is  related  to 
have  been  made  by  the  grubbing  of  the  Lim- 
gris:  Thiele,  Danmarks  Folkesagn,  n.  19,  two 
forms. 

There  can  hardly  be  anything  but  the  name 
in  common  between  the  Lionel  of  this  ballad 
and  Lancelot’s  cousin-german. 


* 


A 

Percy  MS.,  p.  32,  Hales  and  Furnivall,  i,  75. 

1  Sir  Egrabell  bad  sonnes  three, 

Blow  thy  home,  good  hunter 
Sir  Lyonell  was  one  of  these. 

As  I  am  a  gentle  hunter 

2  Sir  Lyonell  wold  on  hunting  ryde, 

Vntill  the  forrest  him  beside. 

3  And  as  he  rode  thorrow  the  wood, 

Where  trees  and  harts  and  all  were  good, 

4  And  as  he  rode  over  the  plaine, 

There  he  saw  a  knight  lay  slaine. 

5  And  as  he  rode  still  on  the  plaine, 

He  saw  a  lady  sitt  in  a  graine. 

6  ‘  Say  thou,  lady,  and  tell  thou  me, 

What  blood  shedd  heere  has  bee.’ 

7  ‘  Of  this  blood  shedd  we  may  all  rew, 
Both  wife  and  childe  and  man  alsoe. 

8  ‘  For  it  is  not  past  3  days  right 
Since  Sir  Broninge  was  mad  a  knight. 


9  £  Nor  it  is  not  more  than  3  dayes  agoe 
Since  the  wild  bore  did  him  sloe.’ 

10  ‘  Say  thou,  lady,  and  tell  thou  mee, 

How  long  thou  wilt  sitt  in  that  tree.’ 

11  She  said,  ‘  I  will  sitt  in  this  tree 
Till  my  friends  doe  feitch  me.’ 

12  £  Tell  me,  lady,  and  doe  not  misse, 

Where  that  your  friends  dwellings  is.’ 

i  .  * 

13  ‘  Downe,’  shee  said,  ‘  in  yonder  towne, 
There  dwells  my  freinds  of  great  renowne.’ 

14  Says,  ‘  Lady,  lie  ryde  into  yonder  towne 
And  see  wether  your  friends  beene  howne. 

15  ‘  I  my  self  wilbe  the  formost  man 

That  shall  come,  lady,  to  feitch  you  home.’ 

16  But  as  he  rode  then  by  the  way, 

He  thought  it  shame  to  goe  away ; 

17  And  vmbethought  him  of  a  wile, 

How  he  might  that  wilde  bore  beguile. 

18  ‘  Sir  Egrabell,’  he  said, *  1  my  father  was  ; 
He  neuer  left  lady  in  such  a  case  ; 


18.  SIR  LIONEL 


211 


19  ‘  Noe  more  will  I  ’  .  .  . 

***** 

20  ‘  Ancl  a[fter]  that  thou  shalt  doe  mee 
Thy  hawkes  and  thy  lease  alsoe. 

21  ‘  Soe  shalt  thou  doe  at  my  command 
The  litle  fingar  on  thy  right  hand.’ 

22  ‘  Ere  I  wold  leaue  all  this  with  thee, 

Vpoon  this  ground  I  rather  dyee.’ 

23  The  gyant  gaue  Sir  Lyoneil  such  a  blow, 

The  fyer  out  of  his  eyen  did  throw. 

24  He  said  then,  ‘  if  I  were  saffe  and  sound, 

As  with-in  this  hower  I  was  in  this  ground, 

25  ‘  It  shold  be  in  the  next  towne  told 
How  deare  thy  buffett  it  was  sold ; 

26  ‘  And  it  shold  haue  beene  in  the  next  towne 

said 

How  well  thy  buffett  it  were  paid.’ 

27  ‘  Take  40  daies  into  spite, 

To  lieale  thy  wounds  that  beene  soe  wide. 

28  ‘  When  40  dayes  beene  at  an  end, 

Heere  meete  thou  me  both  safe  and  sound. 

29  ‘  And  till  thou  come  to  me  againe, 

With  me  thoust  leaue  thy  lady  alone.’ 


B 

Christie,  Traditional  Ballad  Airs,  i,  110.  From  the  sing¬ 
ing  of  an  old  woman  in  Buckie,  Enzie,  Banffshire. 

1  A  knicht  had  two  sons  o  sma  fame, 

Hey  nien  nanny 

Isaac-a-Bell  and  Hugh  the  Graeme. 

And  the  norlan  flowers  spring  bonny 

2  And  to  the  youngest  he  did  say, 

‘  What  occupation  will  you  hae  ? 

When  the,  etc. 

3  ‘Will  you  gae  fee  to  pick  a  mill  ? 

Or  will  you  keep  hogs  on  yon  hill  ?  ’ 

While  the,  etc. 


30  When  40  dayes  was  at  an  end, 

Sir  LyoneZl  of  his  wounds  was  healed  sound. 

% 

31  He  tooke  with  him  a  litle  page, 

He  gaue  to  him  good  yeomans  wage. 

32  And  as  he  rode  by  one  hawthorne, 

Even  there  did  hang  his  hunting  home. 

33  He  sett  Iris  bugle  to  his  mouth, 

And  blew  his  bugle  still  full  south. 

34  He  blew  his  bugle  lowde  and  shrill ; 

The  lady  heard,  and  came  him  till. 

35  Sayes,  ‘  the  gyant  lyes  vnder  yond  low, 

And  well  he  heares  yowr  bugle  blow. 

• 

36  ‘  And  bidds  me  of  good  cheere  be, 

This  night  heele  supp  with  you  and  me.’ 

37  Hee  sett  that  lady  vppon  a  steede, 

And  a  litle  boy  before  her  yeede. 

38  And  said,  ‘  lady,  if  you  see  that  I  must  dye, 
As  euer  you  loued  me,  from  me  flye. 

39  ‘  But,  lady,  if  you  see  that  I  must  liue,’ 

***** 


4  ‘  I  winna  fee  to  pick  a  mill, 

Nor  will  I  keep  hogs  on  yon  hill. 

While  the,  etc. 

5  ‘  But  it  is  said,  as  I  do  hear, 

That  war  will  last  for  seven  year, 

And  the,  etc. 

6  ‘  With  a  giant  and  a  boar 

That  range  into  the  wood  o  Tore. 

And  the,  etc. 

7  ‘  You  ’ll  horse  and  armour  to  me  provide, 
That  through  Tore  wood  I  may  safely  ride.’ 

When  the,  etc. 


212 


18.  SIR  LIONEL 


8  The  knicht  did  horse  and  armour  provide, 
That  through  Tore  wood  Graeme  micht  safely 

ride. 

When  the,  etc. 

9  Then  he  rode  through  the  wood  o  Tore, 

And  up  it  started  the  grisly  boar. 

When  the,  etc. 

10  The  firsten  bout  that  he  did  ride, 

The  hoar  he  wounded  in  the  left  side. 

When  the,  etc. 

11  The  nexten  bout  at  the  boar  he  gaed, 

He  from  the  boar  took  aff  his  head. 

And  the,  etc. 

12  As  he  rode  back  through  the  wood  o  Tore, 

Up  started  the  giant  him  before. 

And  the,  etc. 

13  1  O  cam  you  through  the  wood  o  Tore, 

Or  did  you  see  my  good  wild  boar  ?  ’ 

And  the,  etc. 

14  ‘  I  cam  now  through  the  wood  o  Tore, 

But  woe  be  to  your  grisly  boar. 

And  the,  etc. 


c 

• 

a.  Allies,  The  British,  Roman,  and  Saxon  Antiquities 
and  Folk-Lore  of  Worcestershire,  2d  ed.,  p.  116.  From  the 
recitation  of  Benjamin  Brown,  of  Upper  Wick,  about  1845. 
b.  Ancient  Poems,  Ballads  and  Songs  of  the  Peasantry  of 
England,  edited  by  Robert  Bell,  p.  124. 

1  Sir  Robert  Bolton  had  three  sons, 

Wind  well  thy  horn,  good  hunter 
And  one  of  them  was  called  Sir  Ryalas. 

For  he  was  a  jovial  hunter 

2  He  rang’d  all  round  down  by  the  woodside, 

Till  up  in  the  top  of  a  tree  a  gay  lady  he 

spy’d. 

For  he  was,  etc. 

3  ‘  0  what  dost  thou  mean,  fair  lady  ?  ’  said  he  ; 

‘  0  the  wild  boar  has  killed  my  lord  and  his 
men  thirty.’ 

As  thou  beest,  etc. 


15  ‘  The  firsten  bout  that  I  did  ride, 

I  wounded  your  wild  boar  in  the  side. 

And  the,  etc. 

16  1  The  nexten  bout  at  him  I  gaed, 

From  your  wild  boar  I  took  aff  his  head.’ 

And  the,  etc. 

17  ‘  Gin  you  have  cut  aff  the  head  o  my  boar, 

It ’s  your  head  shall  be  taen  therfore. 

And  the,  etc. 

18  ‘  I  ’ll  gie  you  thirty  days  and  three, 

To  heal  your  wounds,  then  come  to  me.’ 

While  the,  etc. 

19  ‘  It ’s  after  thirty  days  and  three, 

When  my  wounds  heal,  I’ll  come  to  thee.’ 

,  When  the,  etc. 

20  So  Grseme  is  back  to  the  wood  o  Tore, 

And  he ’s  killd  the  giant,  as  he  killd  the 
boar. 

And  the,  etc. 


4  ‘  O  what  shall  I  do  this  wild  boar  to  see  ?  ’ 

‘  O  thee  blow  a  blast,  and  he  ’ll  come  unto 
thee.’ 

As  thou  beest,  etc. 

5  [Then  he  put  his  horn  unto  his  mouth], 

Then  he  blowd  a  blast  full  north,  east,  west 

and  south. 

As  he  was,  etc. 

6  And  the  wild  boar  heard  him  full  into  his 

den; 

Then  he  made  the  best  of  his  speed  unto 
him. 

To  Sir  Ryalas,  etc. 

7  Then  the  wild  boar,  being  so  stout  and  so 

strong, 

He  tlirashd  down  the  trees  as  he  came  along. 
To  Sir  Ryalas,  etc. 


18.  SIR  LIONEL 


213 


8  ‘  O  what  dost  thou  want  of  me  ?  ’  the  wild  boar 

said  he ; 

‘  0  I  tliink  in  my  heart  I  can  do  enough  for 
thee.’ 

For  I  am,  etc. 

9  Then  they  fought  four  hours  in  a  long  sum¬ 

mer’s  day, 

Till  the  wild  boar  fain  would  have  gotten  away. 
From  Sir  Ryalas,  etc. 

10  Then  Sir  Ryalas  drawd  his  broad  sword  writh 

might, 

And  he  fairly  cut  his  head  off  quite. 

For  he  was,  etc. 

11  Then  out  of  the  wood  the  wild  woman 

flew : 

1  Oh  thou  hast  killed  my  pretty  spotted 
pig! 

As  thou  beest,  etc. 


D 

Allies,  Antiquities  and  Folk-Lore  of  Worcestershire,  p. 
118.  From  the  recitation  of  - Oseman,  Hartlebury. 

1  As  I  went  up  one  brook,  one  brook, 

Well  wind  the  horn,  good  hunter 
I  saw  a  fair  maiden  sit  on  a  tree  top. 

As  thou  art  the  jovial  hunter 

2  I  said,  ‘  Fair  maiden,  what  brings  you  here  ?  ’ 

‘  It  is  the  wild  boar  that  has  drove  me  here.’ 

As  thou  art,  etc. 

3  ‘  I  wish  I  could  that  wild  boar  see  ;  ’ 

Well  wind  the  horn,  good  hunter, 

And  the  wild  boar  soon  will  come  to  thee.’ 

As  thou  art,  etc. 

4  Then  he  put  his  horn  unto  his  mouth, 

And  he  blowd  both  east,  west,  north  and 
south. 

As  he  was,  etc. 

5  The  wrild  boar  hearing  it  into  his  den, 

[Then  he  made  the  best  of  his  speed  unto 
him]. 


12  ‘  There  are  three  things  I  do  demand  of  thee, 
It ’s  thy  horn,  and  thy  hound,  and  thy  gay 

lady.’ 

As  thou  beest,  etc. 

13  ‘  If  these  three  things  thou  dost  demand  of  me, 
It ’s  just  as  my  swrord  and  thy  neck  can  agree.’ 

For  I  am,  etc. 

14  Then  into  his  locks  the  wild  woman  flew, 

Till  she  thought  in  her  heart  she  had  torn  him 
through. 

As  he  was,  etc. 

15  Then  Sir  Ryalas  drawd  his  broad  sword  again, 
And  he  fairly  split  her  head  in  twain. 

For  he  was,  etc. 

16  In  Bromsgrove  church  they  both  do  lie  ; 

There  the  wild  boar’s  head  is  picturd  by 

Sir  Ryalas,  etc. 


6  He  whetted  his  tusks  for  to  make  them  strong, 
And  he  cut  down  the  oak  and  the  ash  as  he 

came  along. 

For  to  meet  with,  etc. 

7  They  fought  five  hours  one  long  summer’s  day, 
Till  the  wild  boar  he  yelld,  and  he ’d  fain  run 

away. 

And  away  from,  etc. 

8  0  then  he  cut  his  head  clean  off, 

•  •  •  •  • 

9  Then  there  came  an  old  lady  running  out  of 

the  wood, 

Saying,  ‘  You  have  killed  my  pretty,  my  pretty 
spotted  pig.’ 

As  thou  art,  etc. 

10  Then  at  him  this  old  lady  she  did  go, 

And  he  clove  her  from  the  top  of  her  head  to 
her  toe. 

As  he  was,  etc. 

11  In  Bromsgrove  churchyard  this  old  lady  lies, 
And  the  face  of  the  boar’s  head  there  is  drawn 

by> 

That  was  killed  by,  etc. 


214 


18.  SIR  LIONEL 


E 

a.  Ancient  Poems,  Ballads  and  Songs  of  the  Peasantry 
of  England,  edited  by  Robert  Bell,  p.  250.  b.  Mr  Robert 
White’s  papers. 

1  There  was  an  old  man  and  sons  he  had  three ; 

Wind  well,  Lion,  good  hunter 
A  friar  he  being  one  of  the  three, 

With  pleasure  he  ranged  the  north  country. 
For  he  was  a  jovial  hunter 

2  As  he  went  to  the  woods  some  pastime  to  see, 
He  spied  a  fair  lady  under  a  tree, 


Sighing  and  moaning  mournfully. 

He  was,  etc. 

3  ‘  What  are  you  doing,  my  fair  lady  ?  ’ 

‘  I ’m  frightened  the  wild  boar  he  will  kill  me ; 
He  has  worried  my  lord  and  wounded  thirty.’ 
As  thou  art,  etc. 

4  Then  the  friar  he  put  his  horn  to  his  mouth, 
And  he  blew  a  blast,  east,  west,  north  and 

south, 

And  the  wild  boar  from  his  den  he  came  forth. 
Unto  the,  etc. 

***** 


F  Sir  Ryalash  was  one  of  these. 

Allies,  Antiquities  of  Worcestershire,  p.  120.  And  he  was  a  jovial  hunter 

1  Sir  Rackabello  had  three  sons, 

Wind  well  your  horn,  brave  hunter 


A.  31.  MS.  And  as  the. 

62.  MS.  had  bee. 

II1.  MS.  I  wilt. 

121.  MS.  miste. 

162.  MS.  awaw. 

171.  MS.  vnbethought  .  .  .  while. 

19.  Between  19  and  20  half  a  page  of  the 
MS.  is  wanting. 

201.  a[fter]  :  MS.  blotted. 

361.  MS.  bidds  eue. 

39.  Half  a  page  of  the  MS.  is  wanting. 

B.  The  stanzas  are  doubled  in  Christie,  to  suit  the 
air. 

C.  a.  31,  42,  72.  D.  21,  32,  6.  John  Cole,  who  had 
heard  an  old  man  sing  the  ballad  fifty  years 
before  {Allies,  p.  115),  could  recollect  only  so 
much : 

‘  Oh !  lady,  Oh !  lady,  what  bringst  thou 
here  ? ’ 

Wind  went  his  horn,  as  a  hunter 
‘  Thee  blow  another  blast,  and  he  ’ll  soon 
come  to  thee.’ 

As  thou  art  a  jovial  hunter 

He  whetted  his  tusks  as  he  came  along, 
Wind  went  his  horn,  as  a  hunter 


a  5,  6  stand  thus  in  Allies : 

v  Then  he  blowd  a  blast  full  north,  east, 
west  and  south, 

For  he  was,  etc. 

And  the  wild  boar  heard  him  full  into  his 
den, 

As  he  was,  etc. 

vi  Then  he  made  the  best  of  his  speed  unto 
him. 

{Two  lines  wrongly  supplied  from  another 
source.) 

To  Sir  Ryalas,  etc. 

5  has  been  completed  from  the  corresponding 
stanza  in  D,  and  the  two  verses  of  6,  sep¬ 
arated  above,  are  put  together. 
b.  I1.  Old  Sir  Robert.  I2.  was  Sir  Ryalas. 

22.  Till  in  a  tree-top. 

31.  dost  thee.  32.  The  wild  boar ’s  killed  my 
lord  and  has  thirty  men  gored. 

Barden1.  And  thou  beest. 

41.  for  to  see. 

51.  As  in  Allies  {see  above),  except  full  in 

his  den. 

52.  then  heard  him  full  in  his  den. 


t 


19.  KING  ORFEO 


215 


61.  As  in  Allies  ( see  above),  but  62  supplied 
by  Bell. 

72.  Thrashed  down  the  trees  as  he  ramped 
him  along. 

81.  ‘Oh,  what  dost  thee  want  of  me,  wild 
boar.’ 

Burden 2.  the  jovial. 

91.  summer.  92.  have  got  him. 

102.  cut  the  boar’s  head  off  quite. 

II2.  Oh,  my  pretty  spotted-  pig  thou  hast  slew. 

Burden 2.  for  thou  beest. 

121.  I  demand  them  of  thee. 

131.  dost  ask. 

141.  long  locks.  142.  to  tear  him  through. 

Burden 2.  Though  he  was. 

152.  into  twain. 

161.  the  knight  he  doth  lie.  162.  And  the 
wild  boar’s  head  is  pictured  thereby. 

D.  5,  6.  In  Allies  thus  : 

V  The  wild  boar  hearing  it  into  his  den, 

Well  wind,  etc. 

He  whetted  his  tusks,  for  to  make  them 
strong, 

And  he  cut  down  the  oak  and  the  ash  as  he 
came  along. 

For  to  meet  with,  etc. 

Stanza  5  has  been  completed  from  stanza  vi 
of  Allies'  other  ballad,  and  6  duly  sepa¬ 
rated  from  the  first  line  of  5. 


82,  9.  In  Allies'  copy  thus : 

vii  Oh  !  then  he  cut  his  head  clean  off  ! 

Well  wind,  etc. 

Then  there  came  an  old  lady  running  out 
of  the  wood 

Saying,  ‘  You  have  killed  my  pretty,  my 
pretty  spotted  pig.’ 

As  thou  art,  etc. 

What  stanza  8  should  be  is  easily  seen  from 

C  10. 

C  16,  D  11.  As  imperfectly  remembered  by 
Allies  ( p .  114)  : 

In  Bromsgrove  church  his  corpse  doth  lie, 
Why  winded  his  horn  the  hunter? 

Because  there  was  a  wild  boar  nigh, 

And  as  he  was  a  jovial  hunter. 

E.  b.  “  Fragment  found  on  the  fly-leaf  of  an  old 
book.”  Mr  R.  White' s  papers. 

I2.  one  of  these  three.  I3.  wide  countrie. 
Burden 2.  He  was. 

21.  was  in  woods.  23.  With  a  bloody  river 
running  near  she. 

31.  He  said,  ‘  Fair  lady  what  are  you  doing 
there  ?  ’  3s.  killed  my  lord. 

4.  wanting. 


19 

KING  ORFEO 


The  Leisure  Hour,  February  14,  1880,  No  1468  :  Folk-Lore  from  Unst,  Shetland,  by  Mrs  Saxby,  p.  109. 


Mr  Edmondston,  from  whose  memory  this 
ballad  was  derived,  notes  that  though  stanzas 
are  probably  lost  after  the  first  which  would 
give  some  account  of  the  king  in  the  east 
wooing  the  lady  in  the  west,  no  such  verses 
were  sung  to  him.  He  had  forgotten  some 
stanzas  after  the  fourth,  of  which  the  sub¬ 
stance  was  that  the  lady  was  carried  off  by 


fairies ;  that  the  king  went  in  quest  of  her,  and 
one  day  saw  a  company  passing  along  a  hill¬ 
side,  among  whom  he  recognized  his  lost  wife. 
The  troop  went  to  what  seemed  a  great  “  ha- 
house,”  or  castle,  on  the  hillside.  Stanzas  after 
the  eighth  were  also  forgotten,  the  purport 
being  that  a  messenger  from  behind  the  grey 
stane  appeared  and  invited  the  king  in. 


216 


19.  KING  ORFEO 


We  have  here  in  traditional  song  the  story 
of  the  justly  admired  mediaeval  romance  of 
Orpheus,  in  which  fairy-land  supplants  Tar¬ 
tarus,  faithful  loye  is  rewarded,  and  Eury- 
dice  (Heurodis,  Erodys,  Eroudys)  is  retrieved. 
This  tale  has  come  down  to  us  in  three  ver¬ 
sions  :  A,  in  the  Auchinleck  MS.,  dating  from 
the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century,  Ad¬ 
vocates  Library,  Edinburgh,  printed  in  Laing’s 
Select  Remains  of  the  Ancient  Popular  Poe¬ 
try  of  Scotland,  ‘  Orfeo  and  Heurodis,’  No  3  ; 
B,  Ashmole  MS.,  61,  Bodleian  Library,  of  the 
first  half  of  the  fifteenth  century,  printed  in 
Halliwell’s  Illustrations  of  Fairy  Mythology, 
‘  Kyng  Orfew,’  p.  37  ;  C,  Harleian  MS.,  3810, 
British  Museum,  printed  by  Ritson,  Metrical 
Romaneses,  n,  248,  ‘  Sir  Orpheo.’  At  the  end 
of  the  Auchinleck  copy  we  are  told  that  harp¬ 
ers  in  Britain  heard  this  marvel,  and  made  a 
lay  thereof,  which  they  called,  after  the  king, 

‘  Lay  Orfeo.’  The  other  two  copies  also,  but 
in  verses  which  are  a  repetition  of  the  intro¬ 
duction  to  ‘  Lay.le  Freine,’  call  this  a  Breton 
lay. 

The  story  is  this  (A).  Orfeo  was  a  king 
[and  so  good  a  harper  never  none  was,  B], 
One  day  in  May  his  queen  went  out  to  a 
garden  with  two  maidens,  and  fell  asleep  un¬ 
der  an  “  ympe  ”  tree.  When  she  waked  she 
shrieked,  tore  her  clothes,  and  acted  very 
wildly.  Her  maidens  ran  to  the  palace  and 
called  for  help,  for  the  queen  would  go  mad. 
Knights  and  ladies  went  to  the  queen,  took 
her  away,  and  put  her  to  bed ;  but  still  the 
excitement  continued.  The  king,  in  great 
affliction,  besought  her  to  tell  him  what  was 
the  matter,  and  what  he  could  do.  Alas  !  she 
said,  I  have  loved  thee  as  my  life,  and  thou 
me,  but  now  we  must  part.  As  she  slept 
knights  had  come  to  her  and  had  bidden  her 
come  speak  with  their  king.  Upon  her  re¬ 
fusal,  the  king  himself  came,  with  a  company 
of  knights  and  damsels,  all  on  snow-white 
steeds,  and  made  her  ride  on  a  palfrey  by  his 
side,  and,  after  he  had  shown  her  his  palace, 
brought  her  back  and  said  :  Look  thou  be 
under  this  ympe  tree  tomorrow,  to  go  with  us ; 
and  if  thou  makest  us  any  let,  we  will  take 
thee  by  force,  wherever  thou  be.  The  next 


day  Orfeo  took  the  queen  to  the  tree  under 
guard  of  a  thousand  knights,  all  resolved  to 
die  before  they  would  give  her  up :  but  she  was 
spirited  away  right  from  the  midst  of  them, 
no  one  knew  whither. 

The  king  all  but  died  of  grief,  but  it  was 
no  boot.  He  gave  his  kingdom  in  charge  to 
his  high  steward,  told  his  barons  to  choose  a 
new  king  when  they  should  learn  that  he  was 
dead,  put  on  a  sclavin  and  nothing  else,  took 
his  harp,  and  went  barefoot  out  at  the  gate. 
Ten  years  he  lived  in  the  woods  and  on  the 
heath  ;  his  body  wasted  away,  his  beard  grew 
to  his  girdle.  His  only  solace  was  in  his  harp, 
and,  when  the  weather  was  bright,  he  would 
play,  and  all  the  beasts  and  birds  would  flock 
to  him.  Often  at  hot  noon-day  he  would  see 
the  king  of  fairy  hunting  with  his  rout,  or 
an  armed  host  would  go  by  him  with  banners 
displayed,  or  knights  and  ladies  would  come 
dancing ;  but  whither  they  went  he  could  not 
tell.  One  day  he  descried  sixty  ladies  who 
were  hawking.  He  went  towards  them  and 
saw  that  one  of  them  was  Heurodis.  He  looked 
at  her  wistfully,  and  she  at  him  ;  neither  spoke 
a  word,  but  tears  fell  from  her  eyes,  and  the 
ladies  hurried  her  away.  He  followed,  and 
spared  neither  stub  nor  stem.  They  went  in 
at  a  rock,  and  he  after.  They  alighted  at  a 
superb  castle ;  he  knocked  at  the  gate,  told 
the  porter  he  was  a  minstrel,  and  was  let  in. 
There  he  saw  Heurodis,  sleeping  under  an 
ympe  tree. 

Orfeo  went  into  the  hall,  and  saw  a  king 
and  queen,  sitting  in  a  tabernacle.  He  kneeled 
down  before  the  king.  What  man  art  thou  ? 
said  the  king.  I  never  sent  for  thee,  and  never 
found  I  man  so  bold  as  to  come  here  unbidden. 
Lord,  quoth  Orfeo,  I  am  but  a  poor  minstrel, 
and  it  is  a  way  of  ours  to  seek  many  a  lord’s 
house,  though  we  be  not  welcome.  Without 
more  words  he  took  his  harp  and  began  to 
play.  All  the  palace  came  to  listen,  and  lay 
down  at  his  feet.  The  king  sat  still  and  was 
glad  to  hear,  and,  when  the  harping  was  done, 
said,  Minstrel,  ask  of  me  whatever  it  be  ;  I  will 
pay  thee  largely.  “  Sir,”  said  Orfeo,  “  I  be¬ 
seech  thee  give  me  the  lady  that  sleepeth  un¬ 
der  the  ympe  tree.”  “  Nay,”  quoth  the  king, 


217 


19.  KING  ORFEO 


“  ye  were  a  sorry  couple ;  for  thou  art  lean  and 
rough  and  black,  and  she  is  lovely  and  has  no 
Lack.  A  lothly  thing  were  it  to  see  her  in  thy 
company.”  “  Gentle  king,”  replied  the  harper, 
it  were  a  fouler  thing  to  hear  a  lie  from  thy 
mouth.”  “  Take  her,  then,  and  be  blithe  of 
her,”  said  the  king. 

Orfeo  now  turned  homewards,  but  first  pre¬ 
sented  himself  to  the  steward  alone,  and  in 
beggar’s  clothes,  as  a  harper  from  heathen¬ 
dom,  to  see  if  he  wftre  a  true  man.  The  loyal 
steward  was  ready  to  welcome  every  good 
harper  for  love  of  his  lord.  King  Orfeo  made 
himself  known  ;  the  steward  threw  over  the 
table,  and  fell  down  at  his  feet,  and  so  did  all 


A 

The  Leisure  Hour,  February  14,  1880,  No  1468,  p.  109. 
Obtained  from  the  singing  of  Andrew  Coutts,  an  old  man  in 
Unst,  Shetland,  by  Mr  Biot  Edmondston. 

1  Der  lived  a  king  inta  da  aste, 

Scowan  iirla  griln 
Der  lived  a  lady  in  da  wast. 

Whar  giorten  han  grim  oarlac 

2  Dis  king  he  has  a  huntin  gaen, 

He ’s  left  his  Lady  Isabel  alane. 

3  ‘  Oh  I  wis  ye ’d  never  gaen  away, 

For  at  your  hame  is  dol  an  wae. 

4  ‘  For  da  king  o  Ferrie  we  his  daert, 

Has  pierced  your  lady  to  da  hert.’ 

***** 

5  And  aifter  dem  da  king  has  gaen, 

But  whan  he  cam  it  was  a  grey  stane. 

6  Dan  he  took  oot  his  pipes  ta  play, 

Bit  sair  his  hert  wi  dol  an  wae. 

7  And  first  he  played  da  notes  o  noy, 

An  dan  he  played  da  notes  o  joy. 

8  An  dan  he  played  da  god  gabber  reel, 

Dat  meicht  ha  made  a  sick  hert  hale. 

st 


the  lords.  They  brought  the  queen  to  the 
town.  Orfeo  and  Heurodis  were  crowned 
anew,  and  lived  long  afterward. 

The  Scandinavian  burden  was,  perhaps,  no 
more  intelligible  to  the  singer  than  “  Hey  non 
nonny  ”  is  to  us.  The  first  line  seems  to  be 
Unst  for  Danish 

Skoven  arle  gron  (Early  green ’s  the  wood). 

The  sense  of  the  other  line  is  not  so  obvious. 
Professor  Grundtvig  has  suggested  to  me, 

Hvor  hjorten  han  gar  arlig  (Where  the  hart  goes 
yearly). 


***** 

9  ‘  Noo  come  ye  in  inta  wir  ha, 

An  come  ye  in  among  wis  aV 

10  Now  he ’s  gaen  in.  inta  der  ha, 

An  he ’s  gaen  in  among  dem  a’. 

11  Dan  he  took  out  his  pipes  to  play, 

Bit  sair  his  hert  wi  dol  an  wae. 

12  An  first  he  played  da  notes  o  noy, 

An  dan  he  played  da  notes  o  joy. 

13  An  dan  he  played  da  god  gabber  reel, 

Dat  meicht  ha  made  a  sick  hert  hale. 

14  ‘Noo  tell  to  us  what  ye  will  hae  : 

What  sail  we  gie  you  for  your  play  ? 

15  ‘  What  I  will  hae  I  will  you  tell, 

An  dat ’s  me  Lady  Isabel.’ 

16  ‘  Yees  tak  your  lady,  an  yees  gaeng  hame, 
An  yees  be  king  ower  a’  your  ain.’ 

17  He ’s  taen  his  lady,  an  he ’s  gaen  hame, 
An  noo  he ’s  king  ower  a’  his  ain. 


-V 


218 


20.  THE  CRUEL  MOTHER 


20 

THE  CRUEL  MOTHER. 


A.  Herd’s  MSS,  r,  132,  n,  191.  Herd’s  Ancient  and 
Modern  Scottish  Songs,  1  776,  ir,  237. 

B.  a.  ‘  Fine  Flowers  in  the  Valley,’  Johnson’s  Mu¬ 
seum,  p.  331.  b.  Scott’s  Minstrelsy,  hi,  259  (1803). 

C.  ‘  The  Cruel  Mother,’  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  p. 
161. 

D.  a.  Kinloch  MSS,  v,  103.  b.  ‘The  Cruel  Mother,’ 
Kinloch,  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  46. 

E.  ‘  The  Cruel  Mother.’  a.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  390. 
b.  Motherwell’s  Note-Book,  p.  33. 

F.  ‘  The  Cruel  Mother.’  a.  Buchan’s  MSS,  n,  98. 
b.  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  n,  222. 

G-.  Notes  and  Queries,  1st  S.,  viii,  358. 


H.  ‘  The  Cruel  Mother,’  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  402. 

I.  ‘  The  Minister’s  Daughter  of  New  York.’  a.  Bu¬ 
chan’s  MSS,  ii,  111.  b.  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the 
North  of  Scotland,  n,  217.  c.  ‘  Hey  wi  the  rose  and 
the  lindie  O,’  Christie,  Traditional  Ballad  Airs,  I, 
106. 

J.  a.  ‘  The  Rose  o  Malindie  O,’  Harris  MS.,  f.  10.  b. 
Fragment  communicated  by  Dr  T.  Davidson. 

K.  Motherwell’s  MS. ,  p.  186. 

L.  ‘Fine  Flowers  in  the  Valley,’  Smith’s  Scottish  Min¬ 
strel,  iv,  33. 

M.  From  Miss  M.  Reburn,  as  learned  in  County  Meath, 
Ireland,  one  stanza. 


Two  fragments  of  this  ballad,  A,  B,  were 
printed  in  the  last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth 
century ;  C-L  were  committed  to  writing  after 
1800  ;  and,  of  these,  E,  H,  J,  KL  are  now  printed 
for  the  first  time. 

A-H  differ  only  slightly,  but  several  of  these 
versions  are  very  imperfect.  A  young  woman, 
who  passes  for  a  leal  maiden,  gives  birth  to 
two  babes  [A,  B,  one,  H,  three],  puts  them 
to  death  with  a  penknife,  B-F,  and  buries 
them,  or,  H,  ties  them  hand  and  feet  and 
buries  them  alive.  She  afterwards  sees  two 
pretty  boys,  and  exclaims  that  if  they  were 
hers  she  would  treat  them  most  tenderly. 
They  make  answer  that  when  they  were  hers 
they  were  very  differently  treated,  rehearse 
what  she  had  done,  and  inform  or  threaten 
her  that  hell  shall  be  her  portion,  C,  D,  E, 
F,  H.  In  I  the  children  are  buried  alive,  as 

*  All  the  genuine  ones.  ‘Lady  Anne,’  in  Scott’s  Min¬ 
strelsy,  in,  259,  1803,  is  on  the  face  of  it  a  modern  composi¬ 
tion,  with  extensive  variations,  on  the  theme  of  the  popular 


in  H,  in  J  a  strangled,  in  J  b  and  L  killed 
with  the  penknife,  but  the  story  is  the  same 
down  to  the  termination,  where,  instead  of 
simple  hell-fire,  there  are  various  seven-year 
penances,  properly  belonging  to  the  ballad  of 
‘  The  Maid  and  the  Palmer,’  which  follows  this. 

All  the  English  ballads  are  in  two-line 
stanzas.* 

Until  1870  no  corresponding  ballad  had 
been  found  in  Denmark,  though  none  was 
more  likely  to  occur  in  Danish.  That  year 
Kristensen,  in  the  course  of  his  very  remarka¬ 
ble  ballad-quest  in  Jutland,  recovered  two  ver¬ 
sions  which  approach  surprisingly  near  to 
Scottish  tradition,  and  especially  to  E  :  Jydske 
Folkeviser,  i,  329,  No  121  A,  B,  ‘  Barnemor- 
dersken.’  Two  other  Danish  versions  have 
been  obtained  since  then,  but  have  not  been 
published.  A  and  B  are  much  the  same,  and 

ballad.  It  is  here  given  in  an  Appendix,  with  a  companion 
piece  from  Cromek’s  Remains  of  Nithsdale  and  Galloway 
Song. 


20.  THE  CRUEL  MOTHER 


219 


a  close  translation  of  A  will  not  take  much 
more  space  than  would  be  required  for  a  suffi¬ 
cient  abstract. 

Little  Kirsten  took  with  her  the  bower-women  five, 
And  with  them  she  went  to  the  wood  belive. 

She  spread  her  cloak  down  on  the  earth, 

And  on  it  to  two  little  twins  gave  birth. 

She  laid  them  under  a  turf  so  green, 

Nor  suffered  for  them  a  sorrow  unseen. 

She  laid  them  under  so  broad  a  stone, 

Suffered  sorrow  nor  harm  for  what  she  had  done. 

Eight  years  it  was,  and  the  children  twain 
Would  fain  go  home  to  their  mother  again. 

They  went  and  before  Our  Lord  they  stood  : 

‘  Might  we  go  home  to  our  mother,  we  would.’ 

‘  Ye  may  go  to  your  mother,  if  ye  will, 

But  ye  may  not  contrive  any  ill.’ 

They  knocked  at  the  door,  they  made  no  din  : 

‘  Rise  up,  our  mother,  and  let  us  in.’ 

By  life  and  by  death  hath  she  cursed  and  sworn, 
That  never  a  child  in  the  world  had  she  borne. 

‘  Stop,  stop,  dear  mother,  and  swear  not  so  fast, 

We  shall  recount  to  you  what  has  passed. 

‘  You  took  with  you  the  bower-women  five, 

And  with  them  went  to  the  wood  belive. 

‘  You  spread  your  cloak  down  on  the  earth, 

And  on  it  to  two  little  twins  gave  birth. 

‘  You  laid  us  under  a  turf  so  green, 

Nor  suffered  for  us  a  sorrow  unseen. 

‘  You  laid  us  under  so  broad  a  stone, 

Suffered  sorrow  nor  harm  for  what  you  had  done.’ 

‘  Nay  my  dear  bairns,  but  stay  with  me  ; 

And  four  barrels  of  gold  shall  be  your  fee.’ 

‘  You  may  give  us  four,  or  five,  if  you  choose, 

But  not  for  all  that,  heaven  will  we  lose. 


‘You  may  give  us  eight,  you  may  give  us  nine, 

But  not  for  all  these,  heaven  will  we  tine. 

‘  Our  seat  is  made  ready  in  heavenly  light, 

But  for  you  a  seat  in  hell  is  dight.’ 

A  ballad  is  spread  all  over  Germany  which 
is  probably  a  variation  of  ‘  The  Cruel  Mother,’ 
though  the  resemblance  is  rather  in  the  gen¬ 
eral  character  than  in  the  details.  A,  ‘  Hol- 
lisches  Recht,’  Wunderhorn,  ii,  202,  ed.  of 
1808,  ir,  205,  ed.  1857.  Mittler,  No  489,  p. 
383,  seems  to  be  this  regulated  and  filled  out. 
B,  Erlach,  ‘  Die  Rabenmutter,’  iv,  148 ;  re¬ 
peated,  with  the  addition  of  one  stanza,  by 
Zuccalmaglio,  p.  203,  No  97.  C,  ‘  Die  Kinds- 
morderinn,’  Meinert,  p.  164,  from  the  Kuh- 
liindchen  ;  turned  into  current  German,  Erk’s 
Liederhort,  p.  144,  No  41c.  D,  Simrock,  p. 
87,  No  37a,  from  the  Aargau.  E,  ‘  Das  falsche 
Mutterherz,’  Erk  u.  Irmer,  Heft  5,  No  7,  and 
‘  Die  Kindesmorderin,’  Erk’s  Liederhort,  p.  , 
140,  No  41,  Brandenburg.  F,  Liederhort,  p. 
142,  No  41a,  Silesia.  G,  Liederhort,  p.  143, 
41b,  from  the  Rhein,  very  near  to  B.  H,  Hoff¬ 
mann  u.  Richter,  No  31,  p.  54,  and  I,  No  32, 
p.  57,  Silesia.  J,  Ditfurth,  Frankische  V.  1., 
II,  12,  No  13.  K,  ‘  Die  Rabenmutter,’  Peter, 
Volksthiimliches  aus  Osterreichisch-Schlesien, 

I,  210,  No  21.  L,  ‘  Der  Teufel  u.  die  Miil- 
lerstochter,’  Prohle,  Weltliche  u.  geistliche  Y. 

1.,  p.  15,  No  9,  Hanoverian  Harz.  Repeti¬ 
tions  and  compounded  copies  are  not  noticed. 

The  story  is  nearly  this  in  all.  A  herds¬ 
man,  passing  through  a  wood,  hears  the  cry 
of  a  child,  but  cannot  make  out  whence  the 
sound  comes.  The  child  announces  that  it  is 
hidden  in  a  hollow  tree,  and  asks  to  be  taken 
to  the  house  where  its  mother  is  to  be  married 
that  day.  There  arrived,  the  child  proclaims 
before  all  the  company  that  the  bride  is  its 
mother.  The  bride,  or  some  one  of  the  party, 
calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  she  is  still  wear¬ 
ing  her  maiden-wreath.  Nevertheless,  says 
the  child,  she  has  had  three  children  :  one  she 
drowned,  one  she  buried  in  a  dung-heap  [the 
sand],  and  one  she  hid  in  a  hollow  tree.  The 
bride  wishes  that  the  devil  may  come  for  her 


220 


20.  THE  CRUEL  MOTHER 


if  this  is  true,  and,  upon  the  word,  Satan  ap¬ 
pears  and  takes  her  off ;  in  B,  G,  J,  with  words 
like  these : 

c  Komm  her,  komm  her,  meine  schonste  Braut, 

Dein  Sessel  ist  dir  in  der  Holle  gebaut.’  J  9. 

A  Wendish  version,  ‘Der  Hollentanz,’  in 
Haupt  and  Schmaler,  i,  290,  No  292,  differs 
from  the  German  ballads  only  in  this,  that  the 


bride  has  already  borne  nine  children,  and  is 
going  with  the  tenth. 

A  combination  of  B,  C,  D,  F  is  translated 
by  Grundtvig,  Engelskeog  skotske  Folkeviser, 
No  43,  p.  279,  and  I,  from  the  eighth  stanza 
on,  p.  282.  C  is  translated  by  Wolff,  Halle 
der  Volker,  I,  11,  and  Hauschatz,  p.  223;  Al- 
lingham’s  version  (nearly  B  a)  by  Knortz,  L. 
u.  R.  Alt-Englands,  p.  178,  No  48. 


A 

Herd’s  MSS,T,  132,  ii,  191:  Ancient  and  Modern  Scot¬ 
tish  Songs,  1776,  ii,  237. 

-AZ-  .AA.  .v,  .aa, 

*vv  -7V  -/v  "7v  "Tv 

1  And  there  she  ’s  leand  her  hack  to  a  thorn, 

Oh  and  alelladay,  oh  and  alelladay 
And  there  she  has  her  baby  born. 

Ten  thousand  times  good  night  and  he  wi 
thee 


2  She  has  houked  a  grave  ayont  the  sun, 

And  there  she  has  buried  the  sweet  babe  in. 

3  And  she ’s  gane  back  to  her  father’s  ha, 

She ’s  counted  the  leelest  maid  o  them  a’. 

"TV  "TV  '7V'  ”7v 

4  ‘  O  look  not  sae  sweet,  my  bonie  babe, 

Gin  ye  smyle  sae,  ye  ’ll  smyle  me  dead.’ 

-AZ.  .AA.  JJ,  JJ, 

"7v  tv  -/v  -yv  "7v' 


B 

a.  Johnson’s  Museum,  p.  331.  b.  Scott’s  Minstrelsy, 
1803,  in,  259,  preface. 

1  She  sat  down  below  a  thorn, 

Fine  flowers  in  the  valley 
And  there  she  has  her  sweet  babe  born. 

And  the  green  leaves  they  grow  rarely 

2  ‘  Smile  na  sae  sweet,  my  bonie  babe, 

And  ye  smile  sae  sweet,  ye  ’ll  smile  me  dead.’ 

3  She ’s  taen  out  her  little  pen-knife, 

And  twinnd  the  sweet  babe  o  its  life. 


c 

Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  p.  161. 

1  She  leaned  her  back  unto  a  thorn, 
Three,  three,  and  three  by  three 
And  there  she  has  her  two  babes  born. 
Three,  three,  and  thirty-three 


4  She ’s  howket  a  grave  by  the  light  o  the 

moon, 

And  there  she ’s  buried  her  sweet  babe  in. 

5  As  she  was  going  to  the  church, 

She  saw  a  sweet  babe  in  the  porch. 

6  ‘  O  sweet  babe,  and  thou  were  mine, 

I  wad  deed  thee  in  the  silk  so  fine.’ 

7  ‘  0  mother  dear,  when  I  was  thine, 

You  did  na  prove  to  me  sae  kind.’ 

#  *  #  #  * 


2  She  took  frae  ’bout  her  ribbon-belt, 

And  there  she  bound  them  hand  and  foot. 

3  She  has  taen  out  her  wee  pen-knife, 

And  there  she  ended  baith  their  life. 

4  She  has  howked  a  hole  baith  deep  and  wide, 
She  has  put  them  in  baith  side  by  side. 


20.  THE  CRUEL  MOTHER 


221 


5  She  has  covered  them  oer  wi  a  marble  stane, 
Thinking  she  would  gang  maiden  hame. 

6  As  she  was  walking  by  her  father’s  castle  wa, 
She  saw  twa  pretty  babes  playing  at  the  ba. 

7  1 0  bonnie  babes,  gin  ye  were  mine, 

I  would  dress  you  up  in  satin  fine. 

8  ‘  O  I  would  dress  you  in  the  silk, 

And  wash  you  ay  in  morning  milk.’ 


D 

a.  Kinloch’s  MSS,  v,  103,  in  the  handwriting  of  James 
Beattie,  b.  Kinloch’s  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  46  :  from 
the  recitation  of  Miss  C.  Beattie. 

1  There  lives  a  lady  in  London, 

All  alone  and  alone  ee 
She ’s  gane  wi  bairn  to  the  clerk’s  son. 

Down  by  the  green  wood  sae  bonnie 

2  She ’s  taen  her  mantle  her  about, 

She ’s  gane  aff  to  the  gude  green  wood. 

3  She ’s  set  her  back  untill  an  oak, 

First  it  bowed  and  then  it  broke. 

4  She ’s  set  her  back  untill  a  tree, 

Bonny  were  the  twa  boys  she  did  bear. 

5  But  she  took  out  a  little  pen-knife, 

And  she  parted  them  and  their  sweet  life. 


9  ‘  0  cruel  mother,  we  were  thine, 

And  thou  made  us  to  wear  the  twine. 

10  ‘  O  cursed  mother,  heaven ’s  high, 

And  that ’s  where  thou  will  neer  win  nigh. 

11  ‘  O  cursed  mother,  hell  is  deep, 

And  there  thou  ’ll  enter  step  by  step.’ 


6  She ’s  aff  untill  her  father’s  ha  ; 

She  was  the  lealest  maiden  that  was  amang 
them  a’. 

7  As  she  lookit  oure  the  castle  wa, 

She  spied  twa  bonnie  boys  playing  at  the  ba. 

8  ‘  0  if  these  two  babes  were  mine, 

They  should  wear  the  silk  and  the  sabel- 
line !  ’ 

9  ‘  0  mother  dear,  when  we  were  thine, 

We  neither  wore  the  silks  nor  the  sabel- 
line. 

10  ‘  But  out  ye  took  a  little  pen-knife, 

And  ye  parted  us  and  our  sweet  life. 

11  ‘  But  now  we  ’re  in  the  heavens  hie, 

And  ye ’ve  the  pains  o  hell  to  drie.’ 


E 

a.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  390.  b.  Motherwell’s  Note- 
Book,  p.  33.  From  the  recitation  of  Agnes  Lyle,  Kilbar- 
chan,  August  24,  1825. 

1  There  was  a  lady,  she  lived  in  Lurk, 

Sing  hey  alone  and  alonie  O 
She  fell  in  love  with  her  father’s  clerk. 

Down  by  yon  greenwood  sidie  O 

2  She  loved  him  seven  years  and  a  day, 

Till  her  big  belly  did  her  betray. 

3  She  leaned  her  back  unto  a  tree, 

And  there  began  her  sad  misery. 


4  She  set  her  foot  unto  a  thorn, 

And  there  she  got  her  two  babes  born. 

5  She  took  out  her  wee  pen-knife, 

She  twind  them  both  of  their  sweet  life. 

6  She  took  the  sattins  was  on  her  head, 

She  rolled  them  in  both  when  they  were 
dead. 

7  She  howkit  a  grave  forenent  the  sun, 

And  there  she  buried  her  twa  babes  in. 

8  As  she  was  walking  thro  her  father’s  ha, 

She  spied  twa  boys  playing  at  the  ba. 


222 


20.  THE  CRUEL  MOTHER 


9  ‘  0  pretty  boys,  if  ye  were  mine, 

I  would  dress  ye  both  in  the  silks  so  fine.’ 

10  ‘  0  mother  dear,  when  we  were  thine, 

Thou  neer  dressed  us  in  silks  so  fine. 

11  ‘  For  thou  was  a  lady,  thou  livd  in  Lurk, 
And  thou  fell  in  love  with  thy  father’s  clerk. 

12  ‘  Thou  loved  him  seven  years  and  a  day, 

Till  thy  big  belly  did  thee  betray. 

13  ‘  Thou  leaned  thy  back  unto  a  tree, 

And  there  began  thy  sad  misery. 

14  ‘  Thou  set  thy  foot  unto  a  thorn, 

And  there  thou  got  thy  two  babes  born. 


F 

a.  Buchan’s  MSS,  ii,  98.  b.  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the 
North  of  Scotland,  n,  222. 

I 

1  It  fell  ance  upon  a  day, 

Edinburgh,  Edinburgh 
It  fell  ance  upon  a  day, 

Stirling  for  aye 
It  fell  ance  upon  a  day 
The  clerk  and  lady  went  to  play. 

So  proper  Saint  Johnston  stands  fair  upon 
Tay 

2  ‘  If  my  baby  be  a  son, 

I  ’ll  make  him  a  lord  of  high  renown.’ 

3  She ’s  leand  her  back  to  the  wa, 

Prayd  that  her  pains  might  fa. 

4  She ’s  leand  her  back  to  the  thorn, 

There  was  her  baby  born. 

5  i  O  bonny  baby,  if  ye  suck  sair, 

You  ’ll  never  suck  by  my  side  mair.’ 


15  ‘  Thou  took  out  thy  wee  pen-knife, 

And  twind  us  both  of  our  sweet  life. 

16  ‘  Thou  took  the  sattins  was  on  thy  head, 
Thou  rolled  us  both  in  when  we  were  dead. 

17  ‘  Thou  howkit  a  grave  forenent  the  sun, 
And  there  thou  buried  thy  twa  babes  in. 

18  ‘  But  now  we  ’re  both  in  [the]  heavens  hie, 
There  is  pardon  for  us,  but  none  for  thee.’ 

19  ‘  My  pretty  boys,  beg  pardon  for  me  !  ’ 

‘  There  is  pardon  for  us,  but  none  for  thee.’ 


6  She ’s  riven  the  muslin  frae  her  head, 

Tied  the  baby  hand  and  feet. 

7  Out  she  took  her  little  pen-knife, 

Twind  the  young  tiling  o  its  sweet  life. 

8  She ’s  howked  a  hole  anent  the  meen, 
There  laid  her  sweet  baby  in. 

9  She  had  her  to  her  father’s  ha, 

She  was  the  meekest  maid  amang  them  a’. 

10  It  fell  ance  upon  a  day, 

She  saw  twa  babies  at  their  play. 

11  ‘  0  bonny  babies,  gin  ye  were  mine, 

I ’d  cleathe  you  in  the  silks  sae  fine.’ 

12  £  0  wild  mother,  when  we  were  thine, 

You  cleathd  us  not  in  silks  so  fine. 

13  ‘  But  now  we  ’re  in  the  heavens  high, 

And  you’ve  the  pains  o  hell  to  try.’ 

14  She  threw  hersell  oer  the  castle-wa, 

There  I  wat  she  got  a  fa. 


20.  THE  CRUEL  MOTHER 


223 


G 

Notes  and  Queries,  1st  S.,  vm,  358.  From  Warwick¬ 
shire,  communicated  by  C.  Clifton  Barry. 

1  There  was  a  lady  lived  on  [a]  lea, 

All  alone,  alone  O 

Down  by  the  greenwood  side  went  she. 

Down  the  greenwood  side  O 


H 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  402.  From  Agnes  Laird,  Kilbar- 
chan,  August  24,  1825. 

1  There  was  a  lady  brisk  and  smart, 

All  in  a  lone  and  a  lonie  O 
And  she  goes  with  child  to  her  father’s  dark. 
Down  by  the  greenwood  sidie  O 

2  Big,  big  oh  she  went  away, 

And  then  she  set  her  foot  to  a  tree. 

3  Big  she  set  her  foot  to  a  stone, 

Till  her  three  bonnie  babes  were  borne. 

4  She  took  the  ribbons  off  her  head, 

She  tied  the  little  babes  hand  and  feet. 

5  She  howkit  a  hole  before  the  sun, 

She ’s  laid  these  three  bonnie  babes  in. 

6  She  covered  them  over  with  marble  stone, 

For  dukes  and  lords  to  walk  upon. 

7  She  lookit  over  her  father’s  castle  wa, 

She  saw  three  bonnie  boys  playing  at  the  ba. 

8  The  first  o  them  was  clad  in  red, 

To  shew  the  innocence  of  their  blood. 


I 

a.  Buchan’s  MS.,  ii,  111.  b.  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the 
North  of  Scotland,  n,  217.  c.  Christie,  Traditional  Ballad 
Airs,  i,  106. 

1  The  minister’s  daughter  of  New  York, 

Hey  wi  the  rose  and  the  lindie,  O 
Has  faen  in  love  wi  her  father’s  clerk. 

Alone  by  the  green  burn  sidie,  O 


She  set  her  foot  all  on  a  thorn, 

There  she  had  two  babies  born. 

O  she  had  nothing  to  lap  them  in, 

But  a  white  appurn,  and  that  was  thin. 


The  neist  o  them  was  clad  in  green, 

To  shew  that  death  they  had  been  in. 

The  next  was  naked  to  the  skin, 

To  shew  they  were  murderd  when  they  were 
born. 

4  O  bonnie  babes,  an  ye  were  mine, 

I  wad  dress  you  in  the  satins  so  fine.’ 

4  0  mother  dear,  when  we  were  thine, 

Thou  did  not  use  us  half  so  kind.’ 

4  0  bonnie  babes,  an  ye  be  mine, 

Whare  hae  ye  been  a’  this  time  ?  ’ 

4  We  were  at  our  father’s  house, 

Preparing  a  place  for  thee  and  us.’ 

‘  Whaten  a  place  hae  ye  prepar’d  for  me  ?  ’ 

4  Heaven ’s  for  us,  but  hell ’s  for  thee. 

4  O  mother  dear,  but  heaven ’s  high  ; 

That  is  the  place  thou  ’ll  ne’er  come  nigh. 

4  0  mother  dear,  but  hell  is  deep  ; 

’T  will  cause  thee  bitterlie  to  weep.’ 


She  courted  him  six  years  and  a  day, 

At  length  her  belly  did  her  betray. 

She  did  her  down  to  the  greenwood  gang, 
To  spend  awa  a  while  o  her  time. 

She  lent  her  back  unto  a  thorn, 

And  she ’s  got  her  twa  bonny  boys  born. 


2 

3 

9 

10 

11 

12 

13 

14 

15 

16 

17 

2 

3 

4 


J 


20.  THE  CRUEL  MOTHER 


224 

5  She ’s  taen  the  ribbons  frae  her  hair, 

Bound  their  bodyes  fast  and  sair. 

6  She ’s  put  them  aneath  a  marble  stane, 
Thinking  a  maiden  to  gae  hame. 

7  Looking  oer  her  castle  wa, 

She  spied  her  bonny  boys  at  the  ba. 

8  ‘  O  bonny  babies,  if  ye  were  mine, 

I  woud  feed  you  with  the  white  bread  and 
wine. 

9  ‘  I  woud  feed  you  wi  the  ferra  cow’s  milk, 

And  dress  you  in  the  finest  silk.’ 

10  ‘  O  cruel  mother,  when  we  were  thine, 

We  saw  none  of  your  bread  and  wine. 

11  ‘We  saw  none  of  your  ferra  cow’s  milk, 

Nor  wore  we  of  your  finest  silk.’ 


12  ‘  0  bonny  babies,  can  ye  tell  me, 

What  sort  of  death  for  you  I  must  die  ?  ’ 

13  ‘  Yes,  cruel  mother,  we  ’ll  tell  to  thee, 
What  sort  of  death  for  us  you  must  die. 

14  ‘  Seven  years  a  fowl  in  the  woods, 

Seven  years  a  fish  in  the  floods. 

15  ‘  Seven  years  to  be  a  church  bell, 

Seven  years  a  porter  in  hell.’ 

16  ‘  Welcome,  welcome,  fowl  in  the  wood[s], 
Welcome,  welcome,  fish  in  the  flood[s]. 

17  ‘  Welcome,  welcome,  to  be  a  church  bell, 
But  heavens  keep  me  out  of  hell.’ 


J 

a.  Harris  MS.,  fol.  10,  "Mrs  Harris  and  others.”  b.  Frag¬ 
ment  communicated  by  Dr  T.  Davidson. 

1  She  leant  her  back  against  a  thorn, 

Hey  for  the  Rose  o’  Malindie  O 
And  there  she  has  twa  bonnie  babes  born. 
Adoon  by  the  green  wood  sidie  O 

2  She ’s  taen  the  ribbon  frae  her  head, 

An  hankit  their  necks  till  they  waur  dead. 

3  She  luikit  outowre  her  castle  wa, 

An  saw  twa  nakit  boys,  playin  at  the  ba. 

4  ‘  0  bonnie  boys,  waur  ye  but  mine, 

I  wald  feed  ye  wi  flour-bread  an  wine.’ 

5  ‘  0  fause  mother,  whan  we  waur  thine, 

Ye  didna  feed  us  wi  flour-bread  an  wine.’ 


6  ‘  0  bonnie  boys,  gif  ye  waur  mine, 

I  wald  died  ye  wi  silk  sae  fine.’ 

7  ‘  0  fause  mother,  whan  we  waur  thine, 
Y^ou  didna  died  us  in  silk  sae  fine. 

8  ‘Ye  tuik  the  ribbon  aff  your  head, 

An’  hankit  our  necks  till  we  waur  dead. 

***** 

9  ‘Ye  sail  be  seven  years  bird  on  the  tree, 
Ye  sail  be  seven  years  fish  i  the  sea. 

10  ‘Ye  sail  be  seven  years  eel  i  the  pule, 

An  ye  sail  bo  seven  years  doon  into  hell.’ 

11  ‘  Welcome,  welcome,  bird  on  the  tree, 
Welcome,  welcome,  fish  i  the  sea. 

12  ‘  Welcome,  welcome,  eel  i  the  pule, 

But  oh  for  gudesake,  keep  me  frae  hell !  ’ 


K 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  186. 

1  Lady  Margaret  looked  oer  the  castle  wa, 
Hey  and  a  lo  and  a  lilly  O 


And  she  saw  twa  bonnie  babes  playing  at  the 
ba. 

Down  by  the  green  wood  sidy  O 

2  ‘  O  pretty  babes,  an  ye  were  mine, 

I  would  dress  you  in  the  silks  so  fine.’ 


20.  THE  CRUEL  MOTHER 


225 


3  ‘  O  false  mother,  when  we  were  thine, 

Ye  did  not  dress  us  in  silks  so  fine.’ 

4  ‘  O  bonnie  babes,  an  ye  were  mine, 

I  would  feed  you  on  the  bread  and  wine.’ 

5  ‘  O  false  mother,  when  we  were  thine, 

Ye  did  not  feed  us  on  the  bread  and  the  wine. 


L 

Smith’s  Scottish  Minstrel,  iv,  33,  2d  ed. 

1  A  lady  lookd  out  at  a  castle  wa, 

Fine  flowers  in  the  valley 
She  saw  twa  bonnie  babes  playing  at  the  ba. 
And  the  green  leaves  they  grow  rarely 

2  ‘  O  my  bonnie  babes,  an  ye  were  mine, 

I  would  deed  ye  i  the  scarlet  sae  fine. 

3  ‘  I ’d  lay  ye  saft  in  beds  o  down, 

And  watch  ye  morning,  night  and  noon.’ 

4  ‘  O  mither  dear,  when  we  were  thine, 

Ye  didna  deed  us  i  the  scarlet  sae  fine. 


*  *  *  * 

6  ‘  Seven  years  a  fish  in  the  sea, 

And  seven  years  a  bird  in  the  tree. 

7  ‘  Seven  years  to  ring  a  bell, 

And  seven  years  porter  in  hell.’ 


5  ‘  But  ye  took  out  yere  little  pen-knife, 
And  parted  us  frae  our  sweet  life. 

6  ‘Ye  howkit  a  hole  aneath  the  moon, 
And  there  ye  laid  our  bodies  down. 

7  ‘  Ye  happit  the  hole  wi  mossy  stanes, 
And  there  ye  left  our  wee  bit  banes. 

8  ‘  But  ye  ken  weel,  O  mither  dear, 

Ye  never  cam  that  gate  for  fear.’ 

#  *  *  * 

9  ‘  Seven  lang  years  ye  ’ll  ring  the  bell, 
And  see  sic  sights  as  ye  darna  tell.’ 


( 


M 

Communicated  by  Miss  Margaret  Reburn,  as  learned  in 
County  Meath,  Ireland,  about  1860. 

‘  O  mother  dear,  when  we  were  thine, 

All  a  lee  and  aloney  O 


A.  Superscribed ,  “  Fragment  to  its  own  tune. 
Melancholy.”  Against  the  first  line  of  the 
burden  is  written  in  the  margin ,  “  perhaps 
alas-a-day,”  and  this  change  is  adopted  in 
Herd's  printed  copy.  Scott  suggested  well-a- 
day. 

4 2.  MSS  and  ed.  1776  have  ze  .  .  .  ze  ’ll. 

B.  b.  “  A  fragment  [ of  5  stanzas ]  containing  the 
following  verses,  which  I  have  often  heard 
sung  in  my  childhood.”  Scott,  m,  259.  No 
burden  is  given. 

I1.  She  set  her  back  against.  I2.  young  son 
born. 

21.  0  smile  nae  sae. 

29 


You  neither  dressed  us  in  coarse  or  fine.’ 
Down  by  the  greenwood  sidy  O 


3,  4,  wanting. 

51.  An  when  that  lady  went.  52.  She  spied  a 
naked  boy. 

61.  O  bonnie  boy,  an  ye.  62.  I ’d  deed  ye  in 
the  silks. 

72.  To  me  ye  were  na  half. 

Cunningham ,  Songs  of  Scotland,  I,  340,  says : 
“  I  remember  a  verse,  and  but  a  verse,  of  an 
old  ballad  which  records  a  horrible  instance 
of  barbarity,”  and  quotes  the  first  two  stanzas 
of  Scott's  fragment  literally  ;  from  which  we 
may  infer  that  it  was  Scott's  fragment  that 
he  partly  remembered.  But  he  goes  on : 
“  At  this  moment  a  hunter  came  —  one  whose 


226 


20.  THE  CRUEL  MOTHER 


suit  the  lady  had  long  rejected  with  scorn  — 
the  brother  of  her  lover  : 

He  took  the  babe  on  his  spear  point, 

And  threw  it  upon  a  thorn  : 

‘  Let  the  wind  blow  east,  the  wind  blow  west, 
The  cradle  will  rock  alone.’ 

Cunningham's  recollection  was  evidently  much 
confused.  This  last  stanza ,  which  is  not  in 
the  metre  of  the  others ,  is  perhaps  from  some 
copy  of  ‘  Edom  o  Gordon.’ 

D.  a.  62.  I  was. 

b.  Kinloch  makes  slight  changes  in  his  printed 
copy ,  as  usual. 

41.  until  a  brier. 

51.  out  she ’s  tane. 

62.  She  seemd  the  lealest  maiden  amang. 

81.  0  an  thae. 

E.  I1,  ll1.  Lurk  may  be  a  corruption  of  York, 
which  is  written  in  pencil  (by  way  of  sugges¬ 
tion?)  in  the  MSS. 

a.  161.  on  your. 

b.  41,  14l.  upon  a  thorn. 

52.  twind  wanting.  61.  sattins  wanting. 

13,  14,  15,  16,  17  are  not  written  out  in  the 
note-book. 

181.  the  heavens. 

192.  hut  there  is  none. 

F.  a.  9  stands  last  but  one  in  the  MS. 

142.  Here. 

b.  42.  has  her. 

72.  sweet  is  omitted. 

Printed  as  from  the  MS.  in  Dixon’s  Scottish 
Traditional  Versions,  etc.,  p.  46.  Dixon 
has  changed  baby  to  babies  in  4,  5,  6,  8, 
and  indulges  in  other  variations. 

H.  The  ballad  had  been  heard  with  two  differ¬ 
ent  bitrdens ;  besides  the  one  given  in  the  text, 
this : 

Three  and  three,  and  three  by  three 
Ah  me,  some  forty  three 


7  ‘  Lady  Mary  Ann,’  Johnson’s  Museum,  No 
377,  begins : 

O  Lady  Mary  Ann  looks  oer  the  castle  wa, 
She  saw  three  bonie  boys  playing  at  the  ba. 

I.  a,  b.  141,  161.  fool,  i.  e.  fowl  spelt  phonetically. 

a.  31.  greenwoods 

b.  22.  it  did. 

82.  with  white. 
ll2.  wear’d. 

132.  maun  die. 

c.  “  Epitomized  ”  from  Buchan,  n,  217,  “  and 
somewhat  changed  for  this  work,  some  of  the 
changes  being  made  according  to  the  way  the 
Editor  has  heard  it  sung.”  Note  by  Chris¬ 
tie ,  p.  106. 

Burden,  It ’s  hey  with  the  rose,  etc. 

71.  As  a  lady  was  looking.  72.  She  spied  twa. 
11 2.  Nor  wore  we  a. 

122.  What  sort  of  pain  for  you  I  must  drie. 

132.  What  sort  of  pain  for  us  you  must  drie. 

142.  And  seven. 

Printed  as  from  the  MS.  in  Dixon's  Scottish 
Traditional  Versions  of  Ancient  Ballads ,’ 
p.  50,  ‘  The  Minister’s  Dochter  o  Newarke,’ 
with  a  few  arbitrary  changes. 

J.  a.  91.  You. 

b  has  stanzas  corresponding  to  a  1,  3,  4,  6, 
and,  in  place  of  2, 

She ’s  taen  oot  a  little  pen-knife, 

And  she ’s  robbit  them  o  their  sweet  life. 

Burden}.  Hey  i  the  rose  o  Mylindsay  O. 

I1.  until  a  thorn.  I2.  An  syne  her  twa  bon- 
nie  boys  was  horn. 

31.  As  she  leukit  oer  her  father’s.  32.  bonnie 
boys. 

41.  an  ye  were  mine.  42.  bread. 

62.  claithe  ye  in. 

L.  8  looks  like  an  interpolation,  and  very  probably 
the  ballad  was  docked  at  the  beginning  in  or¬ 
der  to  suit  the  parlor  better. 


20.  THE  CRUEL  MOTHER 


227 


APPENDIX 

— ♦ — 

LADY  ANNE 

“  This  ballad  was  communicated  to  me  by  Mr 
Kirkpatrick  Sharpe  of  Hoddom,  who  mentions  hav¬ 
ing  copied  it  from  an  old  magazine.  Although  it 
has  probably  received  some  modern  corrections,  the 
general  turn  seems  to  be  ancient,  and  corresponds 
with  that  of  a  fragment  [B  b],  which  I  have  often 
heard  sung  in  my  childhood.”  Minstrelsy  of  the 
Scottish  Border,  m,  259,  ed.  1803. 

Buchan,  Gleanings,  p.  90,  has  an  additional  stanza 
between  8  and  9  of  Scott’s,  whether  from  the  old 
magazine  or  not,  it  would  not  be  worth  the  while  to 
ascertain. 

Cunningham,  Songs  of  Scotland,  I,  339,  has  re¬ 
written  even  ‘  Lady  Anne.’ 

Translated  by  Schubart,  p.  170,  and  by  Gerhard, 
p.  92. 

1  Fair  Lady  Anne  sate  in  her  bower, 

Down  by  the  greenwood  side, 

And  the  flowers  did  spring,  and  the  birds  did 
sing, 

’T  was  the  pleasant  May-day  tide. 

2  But  fair  Lady  Anne  on  Sir  William  calld, 

With  the  tear  grit  in  her  ee, 

‘  O  though  thou  be  fause,  may  Heaven  thee  guard, 

In  the  wars  ayont  the  sea  !  ’ 

3  Out  of  the  wood  came  three  bonnie  boys, 

Upon  the  simmer’s  morn, 

And  they  did  sing  and  play  at  the  ba’, 

As  naked  as  they  were  born. 

4  ‘  O  seven  lang  years  wad  I  sit  here, 

Amans:  the  frost  and  snaw, 

A’  to  hae  but  ane  o  these  bonnie  boys, 

A  playing  at  the  ba.  ’ 

5  Then  up  and  spake  the  eldest  boy, 

‘  Now  listen,  thou  fair  ladie, 

And  ponder  well  the  rede  that  I  tell, 

Then  make  ye  a  choice  of  the  three. 

6  ‘  ’T  is  I  am  Peter,  and  this  is  Paul, 

And  that  ane,  sae  fair  to  see, 


But  a  twelve-month  sinsyne  to  paradise  came, 
To  join  with  our  companie.’ 

7  ‘  O  I  will  hae  the  snaw-white  boy, 

The  bonniest  of  the  three  :  ’ 

‘  And  if  I  were  thine,  and  in  thy  propine, 

O  what  wad  ye  do  to  me?  ’ 

8  ‘  ’T  is  I  wad  dead  thee  in  silk  and  gowd, 

And  nourice  thee  on  my  knee:  ’ 

‘  O  mither,  mither,  when  I  was  thine, 

Sic  kindness  I  couldna  see. 

9  ‘  Beneath  the  turf,  where  now  I  stand, 

The  fause  nurse  buried  me; 

The  cruel  pen-knife  sticks  still  in  my  heart, 
And  I  come  not  back  to  thee.’ 


“  There  are  many  variations  of  this  affecting 
tale.  One  of  them  appears  in  the  Musical  Museum, 
and  is  there  called  ‘  Fine  Flowers  of  the  Valley,’  of 
which  the  present  is  either  the  original  or  a  parallel 
song.  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  is  the  original.” 
Cromek’s  Remains  of  Nithsdale  and  Galloway  Song, 
p.  267. 

This  is  translated  by  Talvj,  Versuch,  p.  571. 

1  There  sat  ’mang  the  flowers  a  fair  ladie, 

Sing  ohon,  ohon,  and  ohon  O 
And  there  she  has  born  a  sweet  babie. 

Adown  by  the  greenwode  side  O 

2  An  strait  she  rowed  its  swaddling  band, 

An  O  !  nae  mother  grips  took  her  hand. 

3  O  twice  it  lifted  its  bonnie  wee  ee: 

‘  Thae  looks  gae  through  the  saul  o  me  1  ’ 

4  She  buried  the  bonnie  babe  neath  the  brier, 

And  washed  her  hands  wi  mony  a  tear. 

5  And  as  she  kneelt  to  her  God  in  prayer, 

The  sweet  wee  babe  was  smiling  there. 

6  ‘  0  ay,  my  God,  as  I  look  to  thee, 

My  babe  ’s  atween  my  God  and  me. 

7  ‘  Ay,  ay,  it  lifts  its  bonnie  wee  ee  : 

‘  “  Sic  kindness  get  as  ye  shawed  me.”  ' 

8  ‘  An  0  its  smiles  wad  win  me  in, 

But  I ’m  borne  down  by  deadly  sin. 


228 


21.  THE  MAID  AND  THE  PALMER 


21 

THE  MAID  AND  THE  PALMER 


A.  Percy  MS.,  p.  461.  ‘  Lillum wham,’ Hales  and  Fur-  B.  Sharpe’s  Ballad  Book,  ed.  Laing,  p.  157. 
nivall,  iv,  96. 

- » 


The  only  English  copy  of  this  ballad  that 
approaches  completeness  is  furnished  by  the 
Percy  manuscript,  A.  Sir  Walter  Scott  re¬ 
membered,  and  communicated  to  Kirkpatrick 
Sharpe,  three  stanzas,  and  half  of  the  burden, 
of  another  version,  B. 

There  are  three  versions  in  Danish,  no  one 
of  them  very  well  preserved.  A,  ‘  Maria  Mag¬ 
dalena,’  is  a  broadside  of  about  1700,  existing 
in  two  identical  editions :  Grundtvig,  No  98, 
II,  580  ;  B,  ib .,  was  written  down  in  the  Fiiroe 
isles  in  1848,  by  Hammershaimb ;  C  was  ob¬ 
tained  from  recitation  by  Kristensen  in  Jut¬ 
land  in  1869,  Jydske  Folkeviser,  i,  197,  No 
72,  ‘  Synderinden.’ 

A  Faroe  version,  from  the  end  of  the  last 
century  or  the  beginning  of  this,  is  given  in 
Grundtvig’s  notes,  p.  538  ff. 

Versions  recently  obtained  from  recitation 
in  Norway  are  :  ‘  Maria,’  Bugge’s  Gamle 
Norske  Folkeviser,  No  18;  A,  p.  88;  B,  p. 
90,  a  fragment,  which  has  since  been  com¬ 
pleted,  but  only  two  more  stanzas  printed, 
Grundtvig,  III,  889  ;  C,  Bugge,  p.  91.  D,  E 
are  reported,  but  only  a  stanza  or  two  printed, 
Grundtvig,  III,  889  f  ;  F,  printed  890  f,  and 
G,  as  obtained  by  Lindeman,  891 :  all  these, 
D-G,  communicated  by  Bugge.  C,  and  one 
or  two  others,  are  rather  Danish  than  Nor¬ 
wegian. 

This  is,  according  to  Afzelius,  one  of  the 
commonest  of  Swedish  ballads.  These  ver¬ 
sions  are  known:  A,  “a  broadside  of  1798 
and  1802,”  Grundtvig,  H,  531,  Bergstrom’s 
Afzelius,  I,  335  ;  B,  ‘  Magdalena,’  Atterbom’s 
Poetisk  Kalender  for  1816,  p.  20 ;  C,  Afze¬ 
lius,  h,  229;  D,  Arwidsson,  i,  377,  No  60;  E, 
Dybeck’s  Svenska  Visor,  Hafte  2,  No  6,  only 
two  stanzas;  F,  G,  “in  Wiede’s  collection,  in 


the  Swedish  Historical  and  Antiquarian  Acad¬ 
emy  ;  ”  H,  “  in  Cavallius  and  Stephens’  col¬ 
lection,  where  also  A,  F,  G  are  found;”  I, 
Maximilian  Axelson’s  Vesterdalarne,  p.  171 ; 
J,  ‘  Jungfru  Adelin,’  E.  Wigstrom’s  Folkdikt- 
ning,  No  38,  p.  76  ;  K,  ‘  Jungfru  Maja,’  Al¬ 
bum  utgifvet  af  Nylandingar,  yi,  227.  A-F 
are  printed  in  Grundtvig’s  notes,  n,  533  ff, 
and  also  some  verses  of  G,  H. 

The  ballad  is  known  to  have  existed  in 
Icelandic  from  a  minute  of  Arne  Magnusson, 
who  cites  the  line,  “  Swear  not,  swear  not, 
wretched  woman,”  but  it  has  not  been  recov¬ 
ered  (Grundtvig,  m,  891,  note  d). 

Finnish,  ‘  Mataleenan  vesimatka,’  Kantele- 
tar,  ed.  1864,  p.  240. 

The  story  of  the  woman  of  Samaria,  John, 
iv,  is  in  all  these  blended  with  mediaeval  tradi¬ 
tions  concerning  Mary  Magdalen,  who  is  as¬ 
sumed  to  be  the  same  with  the  woman  “  which 
was  a  sinner,”  in  Luke,  vii,  37,  and  also  with 
Mary,  sister  of  Lazarus.  This  is  the  view  of 
the  larger  part  of  the  Latin  ecclesiastical  writ¬ 
ers,  while  most  of  the  Greeks  distinguish  the 
three  (Butler,  *  Lives  of  the  Saints,’  VII,  290, 
note).  It  was  reserved  for  ballads,  as  Grundt¬ 
vig  remarks,  to  confound  the  Magdalen  with 
the  Samaritan  woman. 

The  traditional  Mary  Magdalen  was  a  beau¬ 
tiful  woman  of  royal  descent,  who  derived  her 
surname  from  Magdalum,  her  portion  of  the 
great  family  estate.  For  some  of  her  earlier 
years  entirely  given  over  to  carnal  delights, 
“  unde  jam,  proprio  nomine  perdito,  peccatrix 
consueverat  appellari,”  she  was,  by  the  preach¬ 
ing  of  Jesus,  converted  to  a  passionate  re¬ 
pentance  and  devotedness.  In  the  course  of 
the  persecution  of  the  church  at  Jerusalem, 
when  Stephen  was  slain  and  the  Christians 


21.  THE  MAID  AND  THE  PALMER 


229 


widely  dispersed,  Mary,  with  Lazarus,  her 
brother,  Martha,  and  many  more,  were  set 
afloat  on  the  Mediterranean  in  a  rudderless 
ship,  with  the  expectation  that  they  would 
find  a  watery  grave.  But  the  malice  of  the 
unbelieving  was  overruled,  and  the  vessel 
came  safe  into  port  at  Marseilles.  Having 
labored  some  time  for  the  christianizing  of 
the  people,  and  founded  churches  and  bishop¬ 
rics,  Mary  retired  to  a  solitude  where  there 
was  neither  water,  tree,  nor  plant,  and  passed 
the  last  thirty  years  of  her  life  in  heavenly 
contemplation.  The  cave  in  which  she  se¬ 
cluded  herself  is  still  shown  at  La  Sainte 
Baume.  The  absence  of  material  comforts 
was,  in  her  case,  not  so  great  a  deprivation, 
since  every  day  at  the  canonical  hours  she 
was  carried  by  angels  to  the  skies,  and  heard, 
with  ears  of  the  flesh,  the  performances  of  the 
heavenly  choirs,  whereby  she  was  so  thoroughly 
refected  that  when  the  angels  restored  her  to 
her  cave  she  was  in  need  of  no  bodily  aliment. 
(Golden  Legend,  Grsesse,  c.  96.)  It  is  the 
practical  Martha  that  performs  real  austeri¬ 
ties,  and  those  which  are  ascribed  to  her  cor¬ 
respond  too  closely  with  the  penance  in  the 
Scandinavian  ballads  not  to  be  the  original  of 
it:  “  Nam  in  primis  septem  annis,  glandibus  et 
radicibus  herbisque  crudis  et  pomis  *  silves- 
tribus  corpusculum  sustentans  potius  quam  re- 
ficiens,  victitavit  ....  Extensis  solo  ramis 
arboreis  aut  viteis,  lapide  pro  cervicali  capiti 
superposito  subjecto,  ....  incumbebat.”  (Vin¬ 
cent  of  Beauvais,  Spec.  Hist.,  ix,  100.) 

The  best-preserved  Scandinavian  ballads 
concur  nearly  in  this  account.  A  woman  at 
a  well,  or  a  stream,  is  approached  by  Jesus, 
who  asks  for  drink.  She  says  she  has  no  ves¬ 
sel  to  seiwe  him  with.  He  replies  that  if  she 
were  pure,  he  would  drink  from  her  hands. 
She  protests  innocence  with  oaths,  but  is  si- 

*  The  Magdalen’s  food  is  to  be  dry  apple  in  Danish  B  9. 
t  Swedish  F : 

14  ‘  And  tell  me  how  has  it  been  with  thy  meat?  ’ 

1  0  I  have  eaten  of  almonds  sweet.’ 

15  ‘  And  tell  me  how  it  has  been  with  thy  drink  ?  ’ 

'  I  have  drunk  both  mead  and  wine,  I  think.’ 

18  ‘  And  tell  me  how  was  that  bed  of  thine  ?  ’ 

*  Oh  I  have  rested  on  ermeline.’ 


lenced  by  his  telling  her  that  she  has  had  three 
children,  one  with  her  father,  one  with  her 
brother,  one  with  her  parish  priest :  Danish 

A,  B,  (5  ;  Faroe ;  Swedish  C,  D,  F,  I,  J,  K  ; 
Norwegian  A,  C,  F,  G.  She  falls  at  his  feet, 
and  begs  him  to  shrive  her.  Jesus  appoints 
her  a  seven  years’  penance  in  the  wood.  Her 
food  shall  be  the  buds  or  the  leaves  of  the 
tree  [grass,  worts,  berries,  bark] ,  her  drink 
the  dew  [brook,  juice  of  plants],  her  bed  the 
hard  ground  [linden-roots,  thorns  and  prickles, 
rocks,  straw  and  sticks]  ;  all  the  while  she 
shall  be  harassed  by  bears  and  lions  [wolves], 
or  snakes  and  drakes  (this  last  in  Swedish 

B,  C,  D,  I,  K,  Norwegian  A).  The  time  ex¬ 
pired,  Jesus  returns  and  asks  how  she  has 
liked  her  penance.  She  answers,  as  if  she  had 
eaten  daintily,  drunk  wine,  slept  on  silk  or 
swan’s-down,  and  had  angelic  company  [had 
been  listening  to  music]. f  Jesus  then  tells 
her  that  a  place  is  ready  for  her  in  heaven. 

The  penance  lasts  eight  years  in  Swedish  C, 
F,  J,  Norwegian  A ;  nine  in  the  Faroe  ballad ; 
fifteen  in  Danish  B  ;  and  six  weeks  in  Danish 

C,  It  is  to  range  the  field  in  Danish  A,  Swed¬ 
ish  F  ;  to  walk  the  snows  barefoot  in  the  Faroe 
ballad  and  Norwegian  B  ;  in  Norwegian  D  to 
stand  nine  years  in  a  rough  stream  and  eight 
years  naked  in  the  church-paths. 

The  names  Maria,  or  Magdalena,  Jesus,  or 
Christ,  are  found  in  most  of  the  Scandinavian 
ballads.  Swedish  E  has  ’Lena  (Lilia  Lena)  ; 
Swedish  H  He-lena ;  J,  Adelin ;  K,  Maja. 
Norwegian  A  gives  no  name  to  the  woman, 
and  Danish  A  a  name  only  in  the  burden  ; 
Norwegian  B  has,  corruptly,  Margjit.  In  Dan¬ 
ish  C,  Norwegian  B,  G,  Jesus  is  called  an  old 
man,  correspondingly  with  the  “  old  palmer  ” 
of  English  A,  but  the  old  man  is  afterwards 
called  Jesus  in  Norwegian  G  (B  is  not  printed 
in  full),  and  in  the  burden  of  Danish  C.  The 

Norwegian  G: 

13  1 1  have  fed  as  well  on  herbage  wild 
As  others  have  fed  on  roast  and  broiled. 

14  ‘  I  have  rested  as  well  on  the  hard,  hard  stone 
As  others  have  rested  on  beds  of  down. 

15  ‘  I  have  drunk  as  well  from  the  rippling  rill 
As  others  that  drank  both  wine  and  ale.’ 


230 


21.  THE  MAID  AND  THE  PALMER 


Son  is  exchanged  for  the  Father  in  Swed¬ 
ish  D. 

Stanzas  4,  5  of  Swedish  A,  G,  approach  sin¬ 
gularly  near  to  English  A  6,  7  : 

Swedish  A : 

4  ‘  Would  thy  leman  now  but  come, 

Thou  wouldst  give  him  to  drink  out  of  thy  hand.’ 

5  By  all  the  worlds  Magdalen  swore, 

That  leman  she  never  had. 

Swedish  G :  % 

4  ‘  Yes,  but  if  I  thy  leman  were, 

I  should  get  drink  from  thy  snow-white  hand.’ 

5  Maria  swore  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 

She  neer  had  to  do  with  any  man. 

The  woman  is  said  to  have  taken  the  lives 
of  her  three  children  in  Danish  A,  B,  C,  and 
of  two  in  Swedish  C,  D,  F,  I,  J,  K  (B  also, 
where  there  are  but  two  in  all),  a  trait  prob¬ 
ably  borrowed  from  ‘  The  Cruel  Mother.’ 

The  seven  years’  penance  of  the  Scandina¬ 
vian  ballads  is  multiplied  three  times  in  Eng¬ 
lish  A,  and  four  times  in  B  and  in  those  ver¬ 
sions  of  ‘  The  Cruel  Mother  ’  which  have  been 
affected  by  the  present  ballad  (20,  I,  J,  K  ; 
L  is  defective).  What  is  more  important,  the 
penance  in  the  English  ballads  is  completely 
different  in  kind,  consisting  not  in  exagger¬ 
ated  austerities,  but  partly,  at  least,  in  trans¬ 
migration  or  metensomatosis  :  seven  years  to 
be  a  fish,  20,  I,  J,  K ;  seven  years  a  bird,  20, 
I,  J,  K ;  seven  years  a  stone,  21,  A,  B;  seven 
years  an  eel,  20,  J ;  seven  years  a  bell,  or  bell- 
clapper,  20,  I,  21,  A  (to  ring  a  bell,  20,  K, 
L).  Seven  years  in  hell  seems  to  have  been 
part  of  the  penance  or  penalty  in  every  case  : 
seven  years  a  porter  in  hell,  21,  B,  20,  I,  K; 
seven  years  down  in  hell,  20,  J ;  seven  years 
to  “  ring  the  bell  and  see  sic  sights  as  ye  darna 
tell,  20,  L  ;  ”  “  other  seven  to  lead  an  ape 
in  hell,”  A,  a  burlesque  variation  of  the  por- 
tership. 

The  Finnish  Mataleena,  going  to  the  well 
for  water,  sees  the  reflection  of  her  face,  and 
bewails  her  lost  charms.  Jesus  begs  a  drink: 
she  says  she  has  no  can,  no  glass.  He  bids 


her  confess.  “  Where  are  your  three  boys  ? 
One  you  threw  into  the  fire,  one  into  the 
water,  and  one  you  buried  in  the  wilderness.” 
She  fills  a  pail  with  her  tears,  washes  his  feet, 
and  wipes  them  with  her  hair :  then  asks  for 
penance.  “  Put  me,  Lord  Jesus,  where  you 
will.  Make  me  a  ladder-bridge  over  the  sea,  a 
brand  in  the  fire,  a  coal  in  the  furnace.” 

There  are  several  Slavic  ballads  which  blend 
the  story  of  the  Samaritan  woman  and  that  of 
‘  The  Cruel  Mother,’  without  admixture  of  the 
Magdalen.  Wendish  A,  ‘Aria’  (M-aria  ?), 
Haupt  and  Schmaler,  i,  287,  No  290,  has  a 
maid  who  goes  for  water  on  Sunday  morning, 
and  is  joined  by  an  old  man  who  asks  for  a 
drink.  She  says  the  water  is  not  clean  ;  it  is 
dusty  and  covered  with  leaves.  He  says,  The 
water  is  clean,  but  you  are  unclean.  She  de¬ 
mands  proof,  and  he  bids  her  go  to  church  in 
her  maiden  wreath.  This  she  does’.  The  grass 
withers  before  her,  a  track  of  blood  follows 
her,  and  in  the  churchyard  there  come  to  her 
nine  headless  boys,  who  say,  Nine  sons  hast 
thou  killed,  chopt  off  their  heads,  and  mean¬ 
est  to  do  the  same  for  a  tenth.  She  entreats 
their  forgiveness,  enters  the  church,  sprinkles 
herself  with  holy  water,  kneels  at  the  altar 
and  crosses  herself,  then  suddenly  sinks  into 
the  ground,  so  that  nothing  is  to  be  seen  but 
her  yellow  hair.  B,  ‘  Die  Kindesmorderin,’ 
ib.,  h,  149,  No  197,  begins  like  A.  As  the 
maid  proceeds  to  the  church,  nine  graves  open 
before  her,  and  nine  souls  follow  her  into  the 
church.  The  oldest  of  her  children  springs 
upon  her  and  breaks  her  neck,  saying,  “  Mother, 
here  is  thy  reward.  Nine  of  us  didst  thou 
kill.” 

There  are  two  Moravian  ballads  of  the 
same  tenor  :  A,  Deutsches  Museum,  1855,  I, 
282,  translated  by  M.  Klapp  :  B,  communi¬ 
cated  to  the  Zeitschrift  des  bohmischen  Mu¬ 
seums,  1842,  p.  401,  by  A.  W.  Sembera,  as 
sung  by  the  “  mahrisch  sprechenden  Slawen  ” 
in  Prussian  Silesia ;  the  first  seven  stanzas 
translated  in  Haupt  u.  Schmaler,  II,  314,  note 
to  No  197.  The  Lord  God  goes  out  one  Sun¬ 
day  morning,  and  meets  a  maid,  whom  he  asks 
for  water.  She  says  the  water  is  not  clean. 
He  replies  that  it  is  cleaner  than  she :  for  (A) 


21.  THE  MAID  AND  THE  PALMER 


231 


she  1ms  seduced  fifteen  men  and  had  children 
with  all  of  them,  has  filled  hell  with  the  men 
and  the  sea  with  the  children.  He  sends  her 
to  church  ;  but,  as  she  enters  the  church-yard, 
the  bells  begin  to  ring  (of  themselves),  and 
when  she  enters  the  church,  all  the  images 
turn  their  backs.  As  she  falls  on  her  knees, 
she  is  changed  into  a  pillar  of  salt. 

The  popular  ballads  of  some  of  the  southern 
nations  give  us  the  legend  of  the  Magdalen 
without  mixture. 

French.  A,  Poesies  populaires  de  la  France, 
I  (not  paged),  from  Sermoyer,  Ain,  thirty 
lines,  made  stanzas  by  repetition.  Mary  goes 
from  door  to  door  seeking  Jesus.  He  asks 
what  she  wants :  she  answers,  To  be  shriven. 
Her  sins  have  been  such,  she  says,  that  the 
earth  ought  not  to  bear  her  up,  the  trees  that 
see  her  can  but  tremble.  For  penance  she  is 
to  stay  seven  years  in  the  woods  of  Baume, 
eat  the  roots  of  the  trees,  drink  the  dew,  and 
sleep  under  a  juniper.  Jesus  comes  to  inquire 
about  her  when  this  space  has  expired.  She 
says  she  is  well,  but  her  hands,  once  white  as 
flower-de-luce,  are  now  black  as  leather.  For 
this  Jesus  requires  her  to  stay  seven  years 
longer,  and  then,  being  thoroughly  cured  of 
her  old  vanities,  she  is  told, 

‘  Marie  Magdeleine,  allez  au  paradis  ; 

La  porte  en  est  ouverte  depuis  hier  a  midi.’ 

B  is  nearly  the  same  legend  in  Provencal : 
Damase  Arbaud,  I,  64.  The  penance  is  seven 
years  in  a  cave,  at  the  end  of  which  Jesus 
passes,  and  asks  Mary  what  she  has  had  to 
eat  and  drink.  “  Wild  roots,  and  not  always 
them  ;  muddy  water,  and  not  always  that.” 
The  conclusion  is  peculiar.  Mary  expresses 
a  wish  to  wash  her  hands.  Jesus  pricks  the 
rock,  and  water  gushes  out.  She  bewails  the 
lost  beauty  of  her  hands,  and  is  remanded  to 
the  cavern  for  another  seven  years.  Upon  her 
exclaiming  at  the  hardship,  Jesus  tells  her 
that  Martha  shall  come  to  console  her,  the 
wood-dove  fetch  her  food,  the  birds  drink. 
But  Mary  is  not  reconciled  : 

‘  Lord  God,  my  good  father, 

Make  me  not  go  back  again  ! 


With  the  tears  from  my  eyes 
I  will  wash  my  hands  clean. 

‘  With  the  tears  from  my  eyes 
I  will  wash  your  feet, 

And  then  I  will  dry  them 
With  the  hair  of  my  head.’ 

C,  Podsies  populaires  de  la  Gascogne,  Bladd, 
1881,  p.  339,  ‘  La  pauvre  Madeleine,’  seven¬ 
teen  stanzas  of  four  short  lines,  resembles  B 
till  the  close.  When  Jesus  comes  back  after 
the  second  penance,  and  Mary  says,  as  she 
had  before,  that  she  has  lived  like  the  beasts, 
only  she  has  lacked  water,  Jesus  again  causes 
water  to  spring  from  the  rock.  But  Mary 
says,  I  want  no  water.  I  should  have  to  go 
back  to  the  cave  for  another  seven  years.  She 
is  conducted  straightway  to  paradise. 

D,  Bladd,  as  before,  p.  183,  ‘  Marie-Made- 
leine,’  six  stanzas  of  five  short  lines.  Mary  is 
sent  to  the  mountains  for  seven  years’  pen¬ 
ance  ;  at  the  end  of  that  time  washes  her 
hands  in  a  brook,  and  is  guilty  of  admiring 
them  ;  is  sent  back  to  the  mountains  for  seven 
years,  and  is  then  taken  to  heaven. 

A  Catalan  ballad  combines  the  legend  of 
the  Magdalen’s  penance  with  that  of  her  con¬ 
version  :  Mila,  Observaciones,  p.  128,  No  27, 
‘  Santa  Magdalena,’  and  Briz  y  Saltd,  Can- 
sons  de  la  Terra,  n,  99.  Martha,  returning 
from  church,  asks  Magdalen,  who  is  combing 
her  hair  with  a  gold  comb,  if  she  has  been  at 
mass.  Magdalen  says  no,  nor  had  she  thought 
of  going.  Martha  advises  her  to  go,  for  she 
certainly  will  fall  in  love  with  the  preacher,  a 
young  man  ;  pity  that  he  ever  was  a  friar. 
Magdalen  attires  herself  with  the  utmost 
splendor,  and,  to  hear  the  sermon  better,  takes 
a  place  immediately  under  the  pulpit.  The 
first  word  of  the  sermon  touched  her ;  at  the 
middle  she  fainted.  She  stripped  off  all  her 
ornaments,  and  laid  them  at  the  preacher’s 
feet.  At  the  door  of  the  church  she  inquired 
of  a  penitent  where  Jesus  was  to  be  found. 
She  sought  him  out  at  the  house  of  Simon, 
washed  his  feet  with  her  tears,  and  wiped 
them  with  her  hair,  picked  up  from  the  floor 
the  bones  which  he  had  thrown  away.  Jesus 
at  last  noticed  her,  and  asked  what  she  wished. 


232 


21.  THE  MAID  AND  THE  PALMER 


She  wished  to  confess.  He  imposed  the  pen¬ 
ance  of  seven  years  on  a  mountain,  “  eating 
herbs  and  fennels,  eating  bitter  herbs.”  Mag¬ 
dalen  turned  homewards  after  the  seven  years, 
and  found  on  the  way  a  spring,  where  she 
washed  her  hands,  with  a  sigh  over  their  dis¬ 
figurement.  She  heard  a  voice  that  said,  Mag¬ 
dalen,  thou  hast  sinned.  She  asked  for  new 
penance,  and  was  sent  back  to  the  mountain 


for  seven  years  more.  At  the  end  of  this  sec¬ 
ond  term  she  died,  and  was  borne  to  the  skies 
with  every  honor  from  the  Virgin,  saints,  and 
angels. 

Danish  A  is  translated  by  Prior,  n,  25,  No 
44  :  Swedish  C  by  William  and  Mary  Howitt, 
Literature  and  Romance  of  Northern  Europe, 
i,  282. 


A 

Percy  MS.,  p.  461.  Furnirall,  iv,  96. 

1  The  maid  shee  went  to  the  well  to  washe, 

Lillumwham,  lillumwham  ! 

The  mayd  shee  went  to  the  well  to  washe, 
Whatt  then  ?  what  then  ? 

The  maid  shee  went  to  the  well  to  washe, 

Dew  ffell  of  her  lilly  white  fleshe. 

Grandam  boy,  grandam  boy,  heye ! 

Leg  a  derry,  leg  a  merry,  mett,  mer,  whoope, 
whir  ! 

Driuance,  larumben,  grandam  boy,  heye ! 

2  While  shee  washte  and  while  shee  ronge, 
While  shee  hangd  o  the  hazle  wand. 

3  There  came  an  old  palmer  by  the  way, 

Sais,  ‘  God  speed  thee  well,  thou  faire  maid  !  ’ 

4  ‘  Hast  either  cupp  or  can, 

To  giue  an  old  palmer  drinke  therin  ?  ’ 

5  Sayes,  ‘  I  have  neither  cupp  nor  cann, 

To  giue  an  old  palmer  drinke  therin.’ 

6  ‘  But  an  thy  lemman  came  from  Roome, 

Cupps  and  canns  thou  wold  ffind  soone.’ 


B 

A  Ballad  Book,  by  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe,  edited  by 
David  Laing,  p.  157  f,  vii  ;  from  Sir  W.  Scott’s  recollection. 

1  ‘  Seven  years  ye  shall  be  a  stone, 

For  many  a  poor  palmer  to  rest  him  upon. 

And  you  the  fair  maiden  of  Gowden-gane 


7  Shee  sware  by  God  &  good  St.  John, 

Lemman  had  shee  neuer  none. 

8  Saies,  ‘  Peace,  ffaire  mayd,  you  are  fforsworne  ! 
Nine  children  you  liaue  borne. 

9  ‘  Three  were  huryed  vnder  thy  bed’s  head, 
Other  three  vnder  thy  brewing  leade. 

10  ‘  Other  three  on  yon  play  greene ; 

Count,  maid,  and  there  he  9.’ 

11  ‘  But  I  hope  you  are  the  good  old  man 
That  all  the  world  beleeues  vpon. 

12  ‘  Old  palmer,  I  pray  thee, 

Pennaunce  that  thou  wilt  giue  to  me.’ 

13  ‘  Penance  I  can  giue  thee  none, 

But  7  yeere  to  he  a  stepping-stone. 

14  ‘  Other  seaven  a  clapper  in  a  bell, 

Other  7  to  lead  an  ape  in  hell. 

15  ‘  When  thou  hast  thy  penance  done, 

Then  thoust  come  a  mayden  home.’ 


2  ‘  Seven  years  ye  ’ll  he  porter  of  hell, 
And  then  I  ’ll  take  you  to  my  sell.’ 

*  *  *  *  * 

3  ‘  Weel  may  I  he  a’  the  other  three, 
But  porter  of  hell  I  never  will  he.’ 

And  I,  etc. 


22.  ST  STEPHEN  AND  HEROD 


233 


A.  21.  White  shee  washee  &  white.  22.  White. 
91.  They  were. 

101.  on  won.  102.  maids. 

B.  Note  by  Scott :  11  There  is  or  was  a  curious 

song  with  this  burthen  to  the  verse, 

‘  And  I  the  fair  maiden  of  Gowden-gane.’ 
Said  maiden  is,  I  think,  courted  by  the  devil 


in  human  shape,  but  I  only  recollect  imper¬ 
fectly  the  concluding  stanzas  [1,  2]  : 

‘  Seven  years  ye  shall  be  a  stone,’ 

(here  a  chorus  line  ■which  I  have  forgot),  etc. 
The  lady  answers,  in  allusion  to  a  former  word 
which  I  have  forgotten, 

Weel  may  I  be  [etc.,  st.  3].” 


22 

ST  STEPHEN  AND  HEROD 

Sloane  MS.,  2593,  fol.  22  b;  British  Museum. 


The  manuscript  which  preserves  this  de¬ 
lightful  little  legend  has  been  judged  by  the 
handwriting  to  be  of  the  age  of  Henry  VI. 
It  was  printed  entire  by  Mr  T.  Wright,  in 
1856,  for  the  Warton  Club,  under  the  title, 
Songs  and  Carols,  from  a  manuscript  in  the 
British  Museum  of  the  fifteenth  century,  the 
ballad  at  p.  63.  Ritson  gave  the  piece  as  ‘  A 
Carol  for  St  Stephen’s  Hay,’  in  Ancient 
Songs,  1790,  p.  83,  and  it  has  often  been  re¬ 
peated  ;  e.  g.,  in  Sandys’  Christmas  Carols,  p. 
4,  Sylvester’s,  p.  1. 

The  story,  with  the  Wise  Men  replacing 
Stephen,  is  also  found  in  the  carol,  still  cur¬ 
rent,  of  ‘  The  Carnal  and  the  Crane,’  Sandys, 
p.  152,  in  conjunction  with  other  legends  and 
in  this  order  :  the  Nativity,  the  Wise  Men’s 
passage  with  Herod,  the  Massacre  of  the  In¬ 
nocents,  the  Flight  into  Egypt,  Herod  and 
the  Sower. 

The  legend  of  Stephen  and  Herod  occurs, 
and  is  even  still  living,  in  Scandinavian  tradi¬ 
tion,  combined,  as  in  English,  with  others  re¬ 
lating  to  the  infancy  of  Jesus. 

Danish.  ‘  Jesusbarnet,  Stefan  og  Herodes  :  ’ 
A,  Grundtvig,  No  96,  H,  525.  First  printed 

*  Everriculum  fermenti  veteris,  seu  residuae  in  Danico 
orbe  cum  paganismi  turn  papismi  reliquiae  in  apricum  pro¬ 
late.  “  Rogata  anus  num  vera  esse  crederet  quae  canebat, 

30 


in  Erik  Pontoppidan’s  little  book  on  the  rel- 
iques  of  Paganism  and  Papistry  among  the 
Danish  People,  1736,  p.  70,  as  taken  down 
from  the  singing  of  an  old  beggar-woman  be¬ 
fore  the  author’s  door.*  Syv  alludes  to  the 
ballad  in  1695,  and  cites  one  stanza.  The 
first  five  of  eleven  stanzas  are  devoted  to  the 
beauty  of  the  Virgin,  the  Annunciation,  and 
the  birth  of  the  Saviour.  The  song  then  goes 
on  thus : 

6  Saint  Stephen  leads  the  foals  to  water, 

All  by  the  star  so  gleaming  : 

‘  Of  a  truth  the  prophet  now  is  born 

That  all  the  world  shall  ransom.’ 

7  King  Herod  answered  thus  to  him  : 

‘  I  ’ll  not  believe  this  story, 

Till  the  roasted  cock  that  is  on  the  board 

Claps  his  wings  and  crows  before  me.’ 

8  The  cock  he  clapped  his  wings  and  crew, 

‘  Our  Lord,  this  is  his  birthday  !  ’ 

Herod  fell  off  from  his  kingly  seat, 

For  grief  he  fell  a  swooning. 

9  King  Herod  bade  saddle  his  courser  gray, 

He  listed  to  ride  to  Bethlem  ; 

respondit :  Me  ilia  in  dubium  vocaturam  averruncet  Deus !  ” 
Grundtvig,  II,  518. 


234 


22.  ST  STEPHEN  AND  HEROD- 


Fain  would  he  slay  the  little  child 
That  to  cope  with  him  pretended. 

10  Mary  took  the  child  in  her  arms, 

And  Joseph  the  ass  took  also, 

So  they  traversed  the  Jewish  land, 

To  Egypt,  as  God  them  guided. 

11  The  little  children  whose  blood  was  shed, 

They  were  full  fourteen  thousand, 

But  Jesus  was  thirty  miles  away 
Before  the  sun  was  setting. 

B.  A  broadside  of  fourteen  four-line  stanzas, 
in  two  copies,  a  of  the  middle,  b  from  the  lat¬ 
ter  part,  of  the  last  century,  b  was  printed 
“in  the  Dansk  Kirketidende  for  1862,  No  43,” 
by  Professor  George  Stephens :  a  is  given  by 
Grundtvig,  m,  881.  The  first  three  stanzas 
correspond  to  A 1-5,  the  next  three  to  A  6-8  : 
the  visit  of  the  Wise  Men  to  Herod  is  then 
intercalated,  7-10,  and  the  story  concludes  as 
in  A  9-11. 

C.  ‘  Sankt  Steffan,’  Kristensen,  h,  123,  No 
36,  from  recitation  about  1870,  eight  four-line 
stanzas,  1-3  agreeing  with  A  3-6,  4-6  with 
A  6-9,  7,  8  with  A  9,  11.  The  verbal  re¬ 
semblance  with  the  copy  sung  by  the  old  beg¬ 
gar-woman  more  than  a  hundred  and  thirty 
years  before  is  often  close. 

A  Faroe  version,  ‘  Rudisar  visa,’  was  com¬ 
municated  to  the  Dansk  Kirketidende  for  1852, 
p.  293,  by  Hammershaimb,  twenty-six  two-line 
stanzas  (Grundtvig,  II,  519).  Stephen  is  in 
Herod’s  service.  He  goes  out  and  sees  the 
star  in  the  east,  whereby  he  knows  that  the 
Saviour  of  the  world,  “  the  great  king,”  is 
born.  He  comes  in  and  makes  this  announce¬ 
ment.  Herod  orders  his  eyes  to  be  put  out : 

*  “  Staffans-skede,  lusus,  vel,  ut  rectius  dicam,  licentia 
puerorum  agrestium,  qui  in  Festo  S.  Stephani,  equis  vecti 
per  villas  discurrunt,  et  cerevisiain  in  lagenis,  ad  hoc  ipsum 
prseparatis,  mendicando  ostiatim  colligunt :  ”  a  dissertation, 
Upsala,  1734,  cited  by  Bergstrom  in  his  edition  of  Afzclius, 
ii,  358,  note  28.  Skede  is  gallop,  or  run,  Icelandic  skeiS 
(Bergstrom),  Norwegian  skeid,  skjei.  Many  copies  of  the 
Staffansvisa  have  been  collected :  see  Bergstrom’s  Afzelius, 
ii,  356 :  and  for  a  description  of  the  custom  as  practised 
among  Swedes  in  Finland,  with  links  and  lanterns,  but  no 
foals,  Fagerlund,  Anteckningar  om  Korpo  och  Houtskars 
Socknar,  p.  39  ff.  Something  very  similar  was  known  in 
Holstein  :  see  Schiitze,  Holsteinsches  Idioticon,  in,  200,  as 


so,  he  says,  it  will  appear  whether  this  “king” 
will  help  him.  They  put  out  Stephen’s  eyes, 
but  now  he  sees  as  well  by  night  as  before  by 
day.  At  this  moment  a  cock,  roast  and  carved, 
is  put  on  the  board  before  Herod,  who  cries 
out: 

‘  If  this  cock  would  stand  up  and  crow, 

Then  in  Stephen’s  tale  should  I  trow.’ 

Herod  he  stood,  and  Herod  did  wait, 

The  cock  came  together  that  lay  in  the  plate. 

The  cock  flew  up  on  the  red  gold  chair, 

He  clapped  his  wings,  and  he  crew  so  fair. 

Herod  orders  his  horse  and  rides  to  Bethle¬ 
hem,  to  find  the  new-born  king.  As  he  comes 
in,  Mary  greets  him,  and  tells  him  there  is 
still  mead  and  wine.  He  answers  that  she 
need  not  be  so  mild  with  him :  he  will  have 
her  son  and  nail  him  on  the  cross.  “  Then 
you  must  go  to  heaven  for  him,”  says  Mary. 
Herod  makes  an  attempt  on  Jesus,  but  is 
seized  by  twelve  angels  and  thrown  into  the 
Jordan,  where  the  Evil  One  takes  charge  of 
him. 

Swedish.  A  single  stanza,  corresponding 
to  Danish  A  6,  B  4,  C  4,  is  preserved  in  a 
carol,  ‘  Staffans  Visa,’  which  was  wont  to  be 
sung  all  over  Sweden  on  St  Stephen’s  day, 
in  the  Christmas  sport,  not  yet  given  up, 
called  Staffansskede  ;  which  consisted  in  young 
fellows  riding  about  from  house  to  house  early 
in  the  morning  of  the  second  day  of  Yule, 
and  levying  refreshments.*  One  of  the  party 
carried  at  the  end  of  a  pole  a  lighted  lantern, 
made  of  hoops  and  oiled  paper,  which  was 
sometimes  in  the  shape  of  a  six-cornered  star. 
Much  of  the  chant  was  improvised,  and  both 

quoted  by  Grundtvig,  ii,  521,  note  **.  From  Chambers’  Book 
of  Days,  n,  763  f,  it  appears  that  a  custom,  called  a  Stephen- 
ing,  was  still  existing  at  the  beginning  of  this  century,  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  parish  of  Drayton  Beauchamp,  Bucks, 
paying  a  visit  to  the  rector  on  December  26,  and  lightening 
his  stores  of  all  the  bread,  cheese  and  ale  they  wanted. 
Chambers,  again,  in  his  Popular  Rhymes  of  Scotland,  p. 
168  f,  gives  a  song  closely  resembling  the  Staffansvisa,  which 
was  sung  before  every  house  on  New  Year’s  eve,  in  Deer- 
ness,  Orkney,  with  the  same  object  of  stimulating  hospital¬ 
ity.  Similar  practices  are  known  in  the  Scottish  Highlands  : 
see  Campbell,  Tales  of  the  West  Highlands,  in,  19,  and 
Chambers,  at  p.  167  of  the  Popular  Rhymes. 


22.  ST  STEPHEN  AND  HEROD 


235 


the  good  wishes  and  the  suggestions  as  to  the 
expected  treat  would  naturally  be  suited  to 
particular  cases  ;  but  the  first  stanza,  with  but 
slight  variations,  was  (Afzelius,  m,  208,  210)  : 

Stephen  was  a  stable-groom, 

W e  thank  you  now  so  kindly  ! 

He  watered  the  five  foals  all  and  some, 

Ere  the  morning  star  was  shining. 

No  daylight ’s  to  he  seen, 

The  stars  in  the  sky 
Are  gleaming. 

or, 

# 

Stephen  was  a  stable-groom, 

Bear  thee  well  my  foal ! 

He  watered  the  five  foals  all  and  some, 

God  help  us  and  Saint  Stephen  ! 

The  sun  is  not  a-shining, 

But  the  stars  in  the  sky 
Are  gleaming. 

There  is  also  a  Swedish  ballad  which  has 
the  substance  of  the  story  of  Danish  A  6-8, 
but  without  any  allusion  to  Stephen.  It  oc¬ 
curs  as  a  broadside,  in  two  copies,  dated  1848, 
1851,  and  was  communicated  by  Professor 
Stephens  to  the  Dansk  Kirketidende,  1861, 
Nos  3,  4,  and  is  reprinted  by  Grundtvig,  in, 
882  f,  and  in  Bergstrom’s  Afzelius,  II,  360  f. 
There  are  eleven  four-line  stanzas,  of  which 
the  last  six  relate  how  Mary  was  saved  from 
Herod  by  the  miracle  of  the  Sower  (see  ‘  The 
Carnal  and  the  Crane,’  stanzas  18-28).  The 
first  five  cover  the  matter  of  our  ballad.  The 
first  runs  : 

In  Bethlem  of  Judah  a  star  there  rose, 

At  the  time  of  the  birth  of  Christ  Jesus  : 

‘Now  a  child  is  born  into  the  world 

That  shall  suffer  for  us  death  and  torment.’ 

Herod  then  calls  his  court  and  council,  and 

*  Stephen  in  all  the  ballads  can  be  none  other  than  the 
first  martyr,  though  Ihre,  and  other  Swedes  since  his  day, 
choose,  for  their  part,  to  understand  a  “  Stephanum  primum 
Ilelsingorum  apostolum,”  who  certainly  did  not  see  the  star 
in  the  east.  The  peasantry  in  Helsingland,  we  are  told, 
make  their  saints’  day  December  26,  too,  and  their  St  Ste¬ 
phen  is  a  great  patron  of  horses.  The  misappropriation  of 
the  glories  of  the  protomartyr  is  somewhat  transparent, 
t  Grundtvig,  whom  I  chiefly  follow  here,  n,  521-24.  In 


says  to  them,  as  he  says  to  Stephen  in  the 
Danish  ballad,  “  I  cannot  believe  your  story 
unless  the  cock  on  this  table  claps  his  wings 
and  crows.”  This  comes  to  pass,  and  Herod 
exclaims  that  he  can  never  thrive  till  he  has 
made  that  child  feel  the  effects  of  his  wrath. 
He  then  steeps  his  hands  in  the  blood  of  the 
Innocents,  and  falls  off  his  throne  in  a  marvel¬ 
lous  swoon.  Mary  is  warned  to  fly  to  Egypt. 
It  is  altogether  likely  that  the  person  who 
speaks  in  the  first  stanza  was  originally  the 
same  as  the  one  who  says  nearly  the  same 
thing  in  the  three  Danish  ballads,  that  is, 
Stephen,  and  altogether  unlikely  that  Herod’s 
words,  which  are  addressed  to  Stephen  in  the 
Danish  ballads,  were  addressed  to  his  court 
and  council  rather  than  to  Stephen  here. 

Norwegian.  Two  stanzas,  much  corrupted, 
of  what  may  have  been  a  ballad  like  the  fore¬ 
going,  have  been  recovered  by  Professor 
Bugge,  and  are  given  by  Grundtvig,  HI,  883. 

St  Stephen’s  appearance  as  a  stable-groom, 
expressly  in  the  Swedish  carol  and  by  impli¬ 
cation  in  the  Danish  ballads,  is  to  be  ex¬ 
plained  by  his  being  the  patron  of  horses 
among  the  northern  nations.*  On  his  day, 
December  26,  which  is  even  called  in  Germany 
the  great  Horse  Day,  it  was  the  custom  for 
horses  to  be  let  blood  to  keep  them  well  dur¬ 
ing  the  year  following,  or  raced  to  protect 
them  from  witches.  In  Sweden  they  were 
watered  “  ad  alienos  fontes  ”  (which,  perhaps, 
is  what  Stephen  is  engaged  in  in  the  carol), 
and  treated  to  the  ale  which  had  been  left  in 
the  cups  on  St  Stephen’s  eve  ;  etc.,  etc.f  This 
way  of  observing  St  Stephen’s  day  is  presumed 
to  be  confined  to  the  north  of  Europe,  or  at 
least  to  be  derived  from  that  quarter.  Other 
saints  are  patrons  of  horses  in  the  south,  as 
St  Eloi,  St  Antony,  and  we  must  seek  the 
explanation  of  St  Stephen’s  having  that  office 

a  note  on  page  521,  supplemented  at  in,  883  e,  Grundtvig 
has  collected  much  interesting  evidence  of  December  26  being 
the  great  Horse  Day.  J.  W.  Wolf,  cited  by  Grundtvig,  ii, 
524,  had  said  previously :  “  Nichts  im  leben  des  ersten 
christlichen  blutzeugen  erinnert  auch  nur  fern  an  pferde; 
trotzdem  machte  das  volk  ihn  zum  patron  der  pferde,  und 
setzte  ihn  also  an  die  stelle  des  Fro,  dem  im  Norden,  und 
nicht  weniger  bei  uns,  die  pferde  heilig  waren.”  Beitrage 
zur  deutschen  Mythologie,  i,  124. 


236 


22.  ST  STEPHEN  AND  HEROD 


in  Scandinavia,  Germany,  and  England  in  the 
earlier  history  of  these  regions.  It  was  sug¬ 
gested  as  long  ago  as  the  middle  of  the  six¬ 
teenth  century  by  the  Archbishop  Olaus  Mag¬ 
nus,  that  the  horseracing,  which  was  universal 
in  Sweden  on  December  26,  was  a  remnant  of 
heathen  customs.  The  horse  was  sacred  to 
Frey,  and  Yule  was  Frey’s  festival.  There 
can  hardly  be  a  doubt  that  the  customs  con¬ 
nected  with  St  Stephen’s  day  are  a  continua¬ 
tion,  under  Christian  auspices,  of  old  rites  and 
habits  which,  as  in  so  many  other  cases,  the 
church  found  it  easier  to  consecrate  than  to 
abolish.* 

The  miracle  of  the  cock  is  met  with  in 
other  ballads,  which,  for  the  most  part,  relate 
the  wide-spread  legend  of  the  Pilgrims  of  St 
James. 

French.  In  three  versions,  Chants  de  Pau- 
vres  en  Forez  et  en  Velay,  collected  by  M. 
Victor  Smith,  Romania,  H,  473  ff.  Three  pil¬ 
grims,  father,  mother,  and  son,  on  their  way 
to  St  James,  stop  at  an  inn,  at  St  Dominic. 
A  maid-servant,  enamored  of  the  youth  (qui 
ressemble  une  image,  que  semblavo-z-un  ange) 
is  repelled  by  him,  and  in  revenge  puts  a  sil¬ 
ver  cup  [cups]  belonging  to  the  house  into  his 
knapsack.  The  party  is  pursued  and  brought 
back,  and  the  young  pilgrim  is  hanged.  He 
exhorts  his  father  to  accomplish  his  vow,  and 
to  come  that  way  when  he  returns.  When  the 
father  returns,  after  three  [six]  months,  the 
boy  is  found  to  be  alive ;  his  feet  have  been 
supported,  and  he  has  been  nourished,  by  God 
and  the  saints.  The  father  tells  the  judge 
that  his  son  is  alive  ;  the  judge  replies,  I  will 
believe  that  when  this  roast  fowl  crows.  The 
bird  crows :  A,  le  poulet  se  mit  a  chanter  sur 
la  table  ;  B,  le  poulet  vole  au  ciel,  trois  fois 
n’a  battu  l’aile;  C,  trois  fois  il  a  chanfcd,  trois 
fois  l’a  battu  l’aile.  The  boy  is  taken  down 
and  the  maid  hanged. 

Spanish.  A,  Mild,  Observaciones  sobre  la 
Poesia  Popular,  p.  106,  No  7,  ‘El  Romero;’ 

*  Jean  Baptiste  Thiers,  Traite  des  Superstitions,  etc.,  2d 
ed.,  Paris,  1697,  as  cited  by  Liebrecht,  Gervasius  von  Tilbury, 
Otia  Imperialia,  p.  233,  No  169,  condemns  the  belief,  “  qu’il 
vaut  bien  mieux  ....  saigner  des  chevaux  le  jour  de  la 
fete  de  S.  Estienne  qu’a  tout  autre  jour.”  This  may  be  one 


B,  Briz,  Cansons  de  la  Terra,  I,  71,  ‘  S.  Jaume 
de  Galicia,’  two  copies  essentially  agreeing. 
The  course  of  the  story  is  nearly  as  in  the 
French.  The  son  does  not  ask  his  father  to 
come  back.  It  is  a  touch  of  nature  that  the 
mother  cannot  be  prevented  from  going  back 
by  all  that  her  husband  can  say.  The  boy  is 
more  than  well.  St  James  has  been  sustain¬ 
ing  his  feet,  the  Virgin  his  head.  He  directs 
his  mother  to  go  to  the  alcalde  (Mild),  who 
will  be  dining  on  a  cock  and  a  hen,  and  to 
request  him  politely  to  release  her  son,  who 
is  still  alive.  The  alcalde  replies:  “  Off  with 
you  !  Your  son  is  as  much  alive  as  this  cock 
and  hen.”  The  cock  began  to  crow,  the  hen 
laid  an  egg  in  the  dish  ! 

Dutch.  ‘  Een  liedeken  van  sint  Jacob,’ 
Antwerpener  Liederbuch,  1544,  No  20,  Hoff¬ 
mann,  p.  26 ;  Uliland,  p.  803,  No  303  ;  Wil¬ 
lems,  p.  318,  No  133.  The  pilgrims  here  are 
only  father  and  son.  The  host’s  daughter 
avows  her  love  to  her  father,  and  desires  to 
detain  the  young  pilgrim.  The  older  pilgrim, 
hearing  of  this,  says,  My  son  with  me  and 
I  with  him.  We  will  seek  St  James,  as  pil¬ 
grims  good  and  true.  The  girl  puts  the  cup 
in  the  father’s  sack.  The  son  offers  himself 
in  his  father’s  place,  and  is  hanged.  The  fa¬ 
ther  finds  that  St  James  and  the  Virgin  have 
not  been  unmindful  of  the  pious,  and  tells  the 
host  that  his  son  is  alive.  The  host,  in  a  rage, 
exclaims,  “  That ’s  as  true  as  that  these  roast 
fowls  shall  fly  out  at  the  door  !  ” 

But  ere  the  host  could  utter  the  words, 

One  by  one  from  the  spit  brake  the  birds, 

And  into  the  street  went  flitting  ; 

They  flew  on  the  roof  of  St  Dominic’s  house, 
Where  all  the  brothers  were  sitting. 

The  brothers  resolve  unanimously  to  go  to  the 
judicial  authority  in  procession;  the  innocent 
youth  is  taken  down,  the  host  hanged,  and  his 
daughter  buried  alive. 

Wendish.  Haupt  und  Schmaler,  I,  285,  No 

of  the  practices  which  Thiers  had  learned  of  from  his  read¬ 
ing  (see  Liebrecht’s  preface,  p.  xvii  f),  but  might  also  have 
migrated  from  the  east  or  north  into  France.  Superstitions, 
like  new  fashions,  are  always  sure  of  a  hospitable  reception, 
even  though  they  impose  a  servitude. 


22.  ST  STEPHEN  AND  HEROD 


237 


289,  ‘  Der  gehenkte  Schenkwirth.’  There  are 
two  pilgrims,  father  and  son.  The  host  him¬ 
self  puts  his  gold  key  into  the  boy’s  basket. 
The  boy  is  hanged  :  the  father  bids  him  hang 
a  year  and  a  day,  till  he  returns.  The  Virgin 
has  put  a  stool  under  the  boy’s  feet,  and  the 
angels  have  fed  him.  The  father  announces 
to  the  host  that  his  son  is  living.  The  host 
will  not  believe  this  till  three  dry  staves  which 
he  has  in  the  house  shall  put  out  green  shoots. 
This  comes  to  pass.  The  host  will  not  believe 
till  three  fowls  that  are  roasting  shall  recover 
their  feathers  and  fly  out  of  the  window.  This 
also  comes  to  pass.  The  host  is  hanged. 

A  Breton  ballad,  ‘Marguerite  Laurent,’  Lu- 
zel,  I,  A,  p.  211,  B,  p.  215,  inverts  a  principal 
circumstance  in  the  story  of  the  pilgrims :  a 
maid  is  hanged  on  a  false  accusation  of  hav¬ 
ing  stolen  a  piece  of  plate.  This  may  be  an 
independent  tradition  or  a  corrupt  form  of  the 
other.  Marguerite  has,  by  the  grace  of  St 
Anne  and  of  the  Virgin,  suffered  no  harm. 
A  young  clerk,  her  lover,  having  ascertained 
this,  reports  the  case  to  the  seneschal,  who 
will  not  believe  till  the  roasted  capon  on  the 
dish  crows.  The  capon  crows.  Marguerite 
goes  on  her  bare  knees  to  St  Anne  and  to 
Notre-Dame  du  Folgoat,  and  dies  in  the 
church  of  the  latter  (first  version). 

‘  Notre-Dame  du  Folgoat,’  Villemarqu^, 
Barzaz  Breiz,  p.  272,  No  38,  6th  ed.,  is  of  a 
different  tenor.  Marie  Fanchonik,  wrongly 
condemned  to  be  executed  for  child  murder, 
though  hanged,  does  not  die.  The  execu- 

*  From  a  copy  of  this  collection  the  story  is  given  in  Acta 
Sanctorum,  vi  Julii,  p.  50,  §  202  ff. 

t  Vincent,  as  pointed  out  by  Professor  George  Stephens, 
knew  of  the  miracle  of  the  cock,  and  tells  it  at  1.  25,  c.  64, 
on  the  authority  of  Pietro  Damiani.  Two  Bolognese  dining 
together,  one  of  them  carved  a  cock  and  dressed  it  with  pep¬ 
per  and  sauce.  “  Gossip,”  says  the  other,  “you  have  ‘  fixed’ 
that  cock  so  that  Peter  himself  could  not  put  him  on  his  legs 
again.”  “  Peter  ?  No,  not  Christ  himself.”  At  this  the  cock 
jumped  up,  in  all  his  feathers,  clapped  his  wings,  crew,  and 
threw  the  sauce  all  over  the  blasphemous  pair,  whereby  they 
were  smitten  with  leprosy. 

t  So,  naturally,  the  Fornsvenskt  Legendarium,  i,  170, 
and  the  Catalan  Recull  de  Eximplis  e  Miracles,  etc.,  Barce¬ 
lona,  1880,  i,  298. 

§  Opus  de  Tholosanorum  gestis,  fol.  49  verso,  according 
to  Acta  S.,  p.  46,  of  the  volume  last  cited.  Toulouse  rivalled 
with  Compostella  in  the  possession  of  relics  of  St  James,  and 


tiouer  reports  to  the  seneschal.  “  Burn  her,” 
says  the  seneschal.  “  Though  in  fire  up  to  her 
breast,”  says  the  executioner,  “  she  is  laugh¬ 
ing  heartily.”  “Sooner  shall  this  capon  crow 
than  I  will  believe  you.”.  The  capon  crows :  a 
roast  capon  on  the  dish,  all  eaten  but  the  feet. 

Religious  writers  of  the  13th  century  have 
their  version  of  the  story  of  the  pilgrims,  but 
without  the  prodigy  of  the  cock.  Vincent  of 
Beauvais,  Speculum  Historiale,  1.  26,  c.  33, 
who  bases  his  narrative  on  a  collection  of  the 
miracles  of  St  James  incorrectly  attributed  to 
Pope  Callixtus  II,* * * §  has  but  two  pilgrims,  Ger¬ 
mans,  father  and  son.  On  their  way  to  Com¬ 
postella  they  pass  a  night  in  an  inn  at  Tou¬ 
louse.  The  host,  having  an  eye  to  the  forfeit¬ 
ure  of  their  effects,  makes  them  drunk  and 
hides  a  silver  cup  in  their  wallet.  Son  wishes 
to  die  for  father,  and  father  for  son.  The 
son  is  hanged,  and  St  James  interposes  to 
preserve  his  life.f  With  Vincent  agree  the 
author  of  the  Golden  Legend,  following  Cal¬ 
lixtus,  Graesse,  2d  ed.,  p.  426,  c.  99  (94), 
§  5, |  and  Csesarius  Heisterbacensis,  Dialogus 
Miraculorum,  c.  58,  II,  130,  ed.  Strange,  who, 
however,  does  not  profess  to  remember  every 
particular,  and  omits  to  specify  Toulouse  as 
the  place.  Nicolas  Bertrand,  who  published 
in  1515  a  history  of  Toulouse,  places  the  mira¬ 
cle  there. §  He  has  three  pilgrims,  like  the 
French  and  Spanish  ballads,  and  the  roast 
fowl  flying  from  the  spit  to  convince  a  doubt¬ 
ing  official,  like  the  Dutch  and  Wendish  bal¬ 
lads. 

was  amply  entitled  to  the  honor  of  the  miracle.  Dr  Andrew 
Borde,  in  his  First  Book  of  the  Introduction  of  Knowledge, 
says  that  an  ancient  doctor  of  divinity  at  Compostella  told 
him,  “We  have  not  one  hair  nor  hone  of  St.  James;  for  St 
James  the  More  and  St  James  the  Less,  St  Bartholomew 
and  St  Philip,  St  Simon  and  Jude,  St  Bernard  and  St 
George,  with  divers  other  saints,  Carolus  Magnus  brought 
them  to  Toulouse.”  Ed.  Furnivall,  p.  204  f.  I  do  not  know 
where  the  splenetic  old  divine  got  his  information,  but  cer¬ 
tainly  from  no  source  so  trustworthy  as  the  chronicle  of  Tur¬ 
pin.  Besides  other  places  in  France,  the  body,  or  at  least 
the  head,  of  St  James  was  claimed  by  churches  in  Italy, 
Germany,  and  the  Low  Countries.  But  the  author  of  an  old 
Itinerary  of  the  Pilgrims  to  Compostella  asserts  that  James 
the  Greater  is  one  of  four  saints  who  never  changed  his 
burial-place.  See  Victor  Le  Clerc  in  Hist.  Litt.  de  la 
France,  xxi,  283. 


238 


22.  ST  STEPHEN  AND  HEROD 


But,  much  earlier  than  the  last  date,  this 
miracle  of  St  James  had  become  connected 
with  the  town  of  San  Domingo  de  la  Calzada, 
one  of  the  stations  on  the  way  to  Compostella,* * * § 
some  hours  east  of  Burgos.  Roig,  the  Valen- 
cian  poet,  on  arriving  there  in  the  course  of 
his  pilgrimage,  tells  the  tale  briefly,  with  two 
roasted  fowls,  cock  and  hen :  Lo  Libre  de  les 
Dones  e  de  Connells,  1460,  as  printed  by  Briz 
from  the  edition  of  1735,  p.  42,  Book  2,  vv. 
135-183.  Lucio  Marineo,  whose  work,  De 
las  cosas  memorables  de  Espana,  appeared  in 
1530,  had  been  at  San  Domingo,  and  is  able 
to  make  some  addition  to  the  miracle  of  the 
cock.  Up  to  the  revivification,  his  account 
agrees  very  well  with  the  Spanish  ballad.  A 
roast  cock  and  hen  are  lying  before  the  mayor, 
and  when  he  expresses  his  incredulity,  they 
jump  from  the  dish  on  to  the  table,  in  feathers 
whiter  than  snow.  After  the  pilgrims  had 
set  out  a  second  time  on  their  way  to  Com¬ 
postella,  to  return  thanks  to  St  James,  the 
mayor  returned  to  his  house  with  the  priests 
and  all  the  people,  and  took  the  cock  and  hen 
to  the  church,  where  they  lived  seven  years, 
and  then  died,  leaving  behind  them  a  pair  of 
the  same  snowy  whiteness,  who  in  turn,  after 
seven  years,  left  their  successors,  and  so  on  to 
Marineo’s  day ;  and  though  of  the  infinite 
number  of  pilgrims  who  resorted  to  the  tomb 
each  took  away  a  feather,  the  plumage  was  al¬ 
ways  full,  and  Marineo  speaks  as  an  eye-wit¬ 
ness.  (Edition  of  1539,  fol.  xliii.)  Dr  Andrew 
Borde  gives  nearly  the  same  account  as  Ma¬ 
rineo,  in  the  First  Book  of  the  Introduction 
of  Knowledge,  1544,  p.  202  ff,  ed.  Furnivall.f 

Early  in  the  sixteenth  century  the  subject 
was  treated  in  at  least  two  miracle-plays,  for 
which  it  is  very  well  adapted  :  Un  miracolo 

*  See  ‘La  grande  Chanson  des  Pelerins  de  Saint- Jacques/ 
in  Socard,  Noels  et  Cantiques,  etc.,  p.  76,  last  stanza,  p.  80, 
third  stanza,  p.  89,  fifth  stanza ;  the  last  =  Romancero  de 
Champagne,  i,  165,  stanza  5. 

t  Southey  follows  Marineo  in  his  Christmas  Tale  of  “  The 
Pilgrim  to  Compostella.” 

1  “  Auch  eine  deutsche  Jesuitenkomodie,  Peregrinus  Com- 
postellanus,  Innsbruck,  1624,  behandelt  diesen  Stoff.  F.  Lie- 
brecht,  in  Serapeum,  1864,  S.  235.” 

§  Vasari,  v,  184,  Milan,  1809  ;  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle, 
hi,  124,  ii,  566  ff,  ed.  1866 ;  Mrs  Jameson’s  Sacred  and 
Legendary  Art,  i,  241,  ed.  1857.  Professor  N.  Heyen  indi- 


di  tre  Pellegrini,  printed  at  Florence  early  in 
the  sixteenth  century,  D’Ancona,  Sacre  Rap- 
presentazioni,  ill,  465  ;  Ludus  Sancti  Jacobi, 
fragment  de  mystere  proven^ale,  Camille  Ar- 
naud,  1858.$ 

Nicolas  Bertrand,  before  referred  to,  speaks 
of  the  miracle  as  depicted  in  churches  and 
chapels  of  St  James.  It  was,  for  example, 
painted  by  Pietro  Antonio  of  Foligno,  in  the 
fifteenth  century,  in  SS.  Antonio  e  Jacopo  at 
Assisi,  and  by  Pisanello  in  the  old  church  of 
the  Tempio  at  Florence,  and,  in  the  next  cen¬ 
tury,  by  Palmezzano  in  S.  Biagio  di  S.  Giro¬ 
lamo  at  Forli,  and  by  Lo  Spagna  in  a  small 
chapel  or  tribune. dedicated  to  St  James,  about 
four  miles  from  Spoleto,  on  the  way  to  Foligno. 
The  same  legend  is  painted  on  one  of  the  lower 
windows  of  St  Ouen,  and  again  on  a  window 
of  St  Vincent,  at  Rouen.  Many  more  cases 
might,  no  doubt,  be  easily  collected. § 

It  is  not  at  all  surprising  that  a  miracle 
performed  at  San  Domingo  de  la  Calzada 
should,  in  the  course  of  time,  be  at  that  place 
attributed  to  the  patron  of  the  locality ;  and 
we  actually  find  Luis  de  la  Vega,  in  a  life  of 
this  San  Domingo  published  at  Burgos  in 
1606,  repeating  Marineo’s  story,  very  nearly, 
with  a  substitution  of  Dominic  for  James.  || 
More  than  this,  this  author  claims  for  this 
saint,  who,  saving  reverence,  is  decidedly  mi- 
norum  gentium ,  the  merit  and  glory  of  deliv¬ 
ering  a  captive  from  the  Moors,  wherein  he,  or 
tradition,  makes  free  again  with  St  James’s 
rightful  honors.  The  Moor,  when  told  that  the 
captive  will  some  day  be  missing,  rejoins,  If 
you  keep  him  as  close  as  when  I  last  saw  him, 
he  will  as  soon  escape  as  this  roast  cock  will 
fly  and  crow.  It  is  obvious  that  this  anecdote 
is  a  simple  jumble  of  two  miracles  of  St  James, 

cated  to  Grundtvig  the  picture  of  Pietro  Antonio,  and  d’An- 
cona  refers  to  Pisanello’s. 

||  He  denies  the  perpetual  multiplication  of  the  feathers, 
and  adds  that  the  very  gallows  on  which  the  pilgrim  was 
hanged  is  erected  in  the  upper  part  of  the  church,  where 
everybody  can  see  it.  It  is  diverting  to  find  Grossenhain,  in 
Saxony,  claiming  the  miracle  on  the  ground  of  a  big  cock 
in  an  altar  picture  in  a  chapel  of  St  James:  Grasse,  Sagen- 
scliatz  des  Ivonigreichs  Sachsen,  2d  ed.,  i,  80,  No  82,  from 
Chladenius,  Materialien  zu  Grossenhayner  Stadtchronik,  i, 
2,  Pirna,  1788 ;  in  verse  by  Ziehnert,  Volkssagen,  p.  99,  No 
14,  ed.  1851. 


22.  ST  STEPHEN  AND  HEROD 


239 


the  freeing  of  the  captives,  recounted  in  Acta 
Sanctorum,  vi  Julii,  p.  47,  §  190  f,  and  the 
saving  the  life  of  the  young  pilgrim.* 

The  restoration  of  a  roasted  fowl  to  life  is 
also  narrated  in  Acta  Sanctorum,  I  Septem- 
bris,  p.  529,  §  289,  as  occurring  early  in  the 
eleventh  century  (the  date  assigned  to  the 
story  of  the  pilgrims),  at  the  table  of  St  Ste¬ 
phen,  the  first  king  of  Hungary.  St  Gunther 
was  sitting  with  the  king  while  he  was  dining. 
The  king  pressed  Gunther  to  partake  of  a 
roast  peacock,  but  Gunther,  as  he  was  bound 
by  his  rule  to  do,  declined.  The  king  then 
ordered  him  to  eat.  Gunther  bent  his  head 
and  implored  the  divine  mercy  ;  the  bird  flew 
up  from  the  dish ;  the  king  no  longer  per¬ 
sisted.  The  author  of  the  article,  without 
questioning  the  reality  of  the  miracle,  well 
remarks  that  there  seems  to  be  something 
wrong  in  the  story,  since  it  is  impossible  that 
the  holy  king  should  have  commanded  the 
saint  to  break  his  vow. 

But  the  prime  circumstances  in  the  legend, 
the  resuscitation  of  the  cock,  does  not  belong 

• 

*  For  Luis  de  la  Vega,  see  Acta  Sanctorum,  in  Maii,  p. 
171  f,  §§  6,  7,  8,  vi  Julii,  p.  46,  §  187.  The  Spanish  and  the 
Dutch  ballad  give  due  glory  to  St  James  and  the  Virgin ; 
French  C  to  God  and  St  James.  The  Wendish  ballad  can 
hardly  be  expected  to  celebrate  St  James,  and  refers  the  jus¬ 
tification  and  saving  of  the  boy  to  the  Virgin  and  the  saints. 
French  A  has  St  Michas ;  B,  God  and  the  Virgin. 

Luis  de  la  Vega,  with  what  seems  an  excess  of  caution, 
says,  p.  172,  as  above,  §  8 :  appositique  erant  ad  comedendum 
gallus  et  gallina,  assati  nescio  an  elixi.  Of  boiled  fowl  we 
have  not  heard  so  far.  But  we  find  in  a  song  in  Fletcher’s 
play  of  *  The  Spanish  Curate,’  this  stanza  : 

The  stewd  cock  shall  crow,  cock-a-loodle-loo, 

A  loud  cock-a-loodle  shall  he  crow; 

The  duck  and  the  drake  shall  swim  in  a  lake 
Of  onions  and  claret  below. 

Act  III,  Sc.  2;  Dyce,  viii,  436. 

In  Father  Merolla’s  Voyage  to  Congo,  1682,  a  reference 
to  which  I  owe  to  Liebrecht,  there  is  a  story  of  a  stewed 
cock,  which,  on  the  whole,  justifies  Luis  de  la  Vega’s  scruple. 
This  must  have  been  introduced  into  Africa  by  some  mis¬ 
sioned,  and,  when  so  introduced,  the  miracle  must  have  had 
an  object,  which  it  had  lost  before  the  tale  came  to  Father 
Merolla. 

One  of  two  parties  at  feud  having  marched  upon  the  chief 
city  of  his  antagonist,  and  found  all  the  inhabitants  fled,  the 
soldiers  fell  to  rifling  the  houses  and  killing  all  the  living 
creatures  they  met,  to  satisfy  their  hunger.  “  Amongst  the 
rest  they  found  a  cock  of  a  larger  size  than  ordinary,  with  a 
great  ring  of  iroil  about  one  of  his  legs,  which  occasioned 


in  the  eleventh  century,  where  Vincent  and 
others  have  put  it,  but  in  the  first,  where  it 
is  put  by  the  English  and  Scandinavian  bal¬ 
lads.  A  French  romance  somewhat  older  than 
Vincent,  Ogier  le  Danois,  agrees  with  the  later 
English  ballad  in  making  the  occasion  to  be 
the  visit  of  the  Wise  Men  to  Herod.  Herod 
will  not  believe  what  they  say, 

‘  Se  cis  capon  que  ci  m’est  en  presant 

N’en  est  plumeus  com  il  estoit  devant, 

Et  se  redrece  a  la  perche  en  cantant.’ 

w  11621-23. 

And  what  he  exacts  is  performed  for  his  con¬ 
viction,  f  Nevertheless,  as  we  shall  now  see, 
the  true  epoch  of  the  event  is  not  the  Na¬ 
tivity,  but  the  Passion. 

The  ultimate  source  of  the  miracle  of  the 
reanimated  cock  is  an  interpolation  in  two 
late  Greek  manuscripts  of  the  so-called  Gos¬ 
pel  of  Nicodemus  :  Thilo,  Codex  Apocryphus 
Novi  Testamenti,  p.  cxxix  f;  Tischendorf, 
Evangelia  Apocrypha,  p.  269,  note  3.  After 

Judas  had  tried  to  induce  the  Jews  to  take 

•  • 

one  of  the  wisest  among  them  to  cry  out,  Surely  this  cock 
must  be  bewitched,  and  it  is  not  at  all  proper  for  us  to  med¬ 
dle  with.  To  which  the  rest  answered.  Be  it  what  it  will, 
we  are  resolved  to  eat  it.  For  this  end  they  immediately 
killed  and  tore  it  to  pieces  after  the  manner  of  the  negroes, 
and  afterwards  put  it  into  a  pot  to  boil.  When  it  was 
enough,  they  took  it  out  into  a  platter,  and  two,  according 
to  the  custom,  having  said  grace,  five  of  them  sat  down  to 
it  with  great  greediness.  But  before  they  had  touched  a  bit, 
to  their  great  wonder  and  amazement,  the  boiled  pieces  of 
the  cock,  though  sodden,  and  near  dissolved,  began  to  move 
about  and  unite  into  therform  they  were  in  before,  and,  being 
so  united,  the  restored  cock  immediately  raised  himself  up, 
and  jumped  out  of  the  platter  upon  the  ground,  where  he 
walked  about  as  well  as  when  he  was  first  taken.  After¬ 
wards  he  leaped  upon  an  adjoining  wall,  where  he  became 
new  feathered  all  of  a  sudden,  and  then  took  his  flight  to  a 
tree  hard  by,  where  fixing  himself,  he,  after  three  claps  of 
his  wings,  made  a  most  hideous  noise,  and  then  disappeared. 
Every  one  may  easily  imagine  what  a  terrible  fright  the 
spectators  were  in  at  this  sight,  who,  leaping  with  a  thousand 
Ave  Marias  in  their  mouths  from  the  place  where  this  had 
happened,  were  contented  to  observe  most  of  the  particulars 
at  a  distance.”  It  appears  that  the  brother  of  one  of  the  two 
contending  parties  was  said  to  have  had  a  very  large  cock, 
from  whose  crowing  he  took  auguries,  but  whether  this  was 
the  same  as  the  one  restored  to  life  is  not  known.  Church¬ 
ill’s  Collection  of  Voyages  and  Travels,  1704,  i,  682,  Pinker¬ 
ton’s  Collection,  xvi,  229. 

t  La  Chevalerie  Ogier  de  Danemarche,  par  Raimbert  de 
Paris,  Poeme  du  xii  siecle,  etc.,  n,  485,  w  11606-627. 


240 


22.  ST  STEPHEN  AND  HEROD 


back  the  thirty  pieces,  he  went  to  his  house 
to  hang  himself,  and  found  his  wife  sitting 
there,  and  a  cock  roasting  on  a  spit  before  the 
coals.  He  said  to  his  wife,  Get  me  a  rope,  for 
I  mean  to  hang  myself,  as  I  deserve.  His  wife 
said  to  him,  Why  do  you  say  such  things  ? 
And  Judas  said  to  her,  Know  in  truth  that  I 
have  betrayed  my  master  Jesus  to  evil-doers, 
who  will  put  him  to  death.  But  he  will  rise 
on  the  third  day,  and  woe  to  us.  His  wife 
said,  Do  not  talk  so  nor  believe  it ;  for  this 
cock  that  is  roasting  before  the  coals  will  as 
soon  crow  as  Jesus  rise  again  as  you  say.  And 
even  while  she  was  speaking  the  words,  the 
cock  flapped  his  wings  and  crew  thrice.  Then 
Judas  was  still  more  persuaded,  and  straight¬ 
way  made  a  noose  of  the  rope  and  hanged 
himself.* 

The  Cursor  Mundi  gives  its  own  turn  to 
this  relation,  with  the  intent'  to  blacken  Judas 
a  little  more.f  When  Judas  had  betrayed 
Jesus,  he  went  to  his  mother  with  his  pence, 
boasting  of  the  act.  “  Hast  thou  sold  thy 
master  ?  ”  said  she.  “  Shame  shall  be  thy 
lot,  for  they  will  put  him  to  death ;  but  he 
shall  rise  again.”  “Rise,  mother?”  said  Ju¬ 
das,  “  sooner  shall  this  cock  rise  up  that  was 
scalded  yesternight.” 

Hardly  had  he  said  the  word, 

The  cock  leapt  up  and  flew, 

Feathered  fairer  than  before, 

And  by  God’s  grace  he  crew ; 

The  traitor  false  began  to  fear, 

His  peril  well  he  knew. 

This  cock  it  was  the  self-same  cock 
Which  Peter  made  to  rue, 

When  he  had  thrice  denied  his  lord 
And  proved  to  him  untrue. 

A  still  different  version  existed  among  the 
Copts,  who  had  their  copies  of  the  apocryphal 

*  The  gospel  of  Nicodemus  was  introduced  into  the 
French  and  the  Italian  romance  of  Perceforest,  but  unfortu¬ 
nately  this  “narratio  ab  inepto  Grseculo  pessime  interpo- 
lata  ”  (Thilo)  seems  to  be  lacking. 

t  Cursor  Mundi,  a  Northumbrian  poem  of  the  14th  cen¬ 
tury,  in  four  versions,  ed.  by  R.  Morris,  p.  912  f,  vv  15961— 
998.  This  passage  was  kindly  pointed  out  to  me  by  Profes¬ 
sor  George  Stephens. 

t  Relation  d’un  Voyage  fait  au  Levant  par  Monsieur  De 


writings,  and  among  them  the  gospel  of  Nico¬ 
demus. 

The  Copts  say,  according  to  Thevenot, 
“  that  on  the  day  of  the  Supper  a  roasted 
cock  was  served  to  our  Lord,  and  that  when 
Judas  went  out  to  sell  Jesus  to  the  Jews,  the 
Saviour  commanded  the  cock  to  get  up  and 
follow  him  ;  which  the  cock  did,  and  brought 
back  his  report  to  our  Lord  that  Judas  had 
sold  him,  for  which  service  this  cock  shall  be 
admitted  to  paradise.”  £ 

The  herald  of  the  morn  is  described  in 
other  carols  as  making  known  the  birth  of 
the  Saviour  to  the  animal  creation,  or  the 
more  familiar  members  of  it. 

“  There  is  a  sheet  of  carols  headed  thus : 
‘  Christus  natus  est,  Christ  is  born,’  with 
a  wood-cut  ten  inches  high  by  eight  and  one 
half  inches  wide,  representing  the  stable  at 
Bethlehem  ;  Christ  in  the  crib,  watched  by 
the  Virgin  and  Joseph  ;  shepherds  kneeling ; 
angels  attending  ;  a  man  playing  on  the  bag¬ 
pipes  ;  a  woman  with  a  basket  of  fruit  on  her 
head ;  a  sheep  bleating  and  an  ox  lowing  on 
the  ground ;  a  raven  croaking  and  a  crow 
cawing  on  the  hay-rack ;  a  cock  crowing  above 
them  ;  and  angels  singing  in  the  sky.  The 
animals  have  labels  from  their  mouths,  bearing 
Latin  inscriptions.  Down  the  side  of  the  wood- 
cut  is  the  following  account  and  explanation  : 

‘  A  religious  man,  inventing  the  conceits  of 
both  birds  and  beasts,  drawn  in  the  picture  of 
our  Saviour’s  birth,  doth  thus  express  them. 
The  cock  croweth  Christus  natus  est ,  Christ  is 
born.  The  raven  asked  Quando ,  When  ?  The 
crow  replied,  Hac  node ,  This  night.  The  ox 
cryeth  out,  Ubi,  ubi  ?  Where,  where  ?  The 
sheep  bleated  out,  Bethlehem ,  Bethlehem.  A 
voice  from  heaven  sounded,  Gloria  in  exeelsis , 
Glory  be  on  high  !  ’  ”  London,  1701.  Hone’s 
Every-Day  Book,  i,  col.  1600  f. 

Thevenot,  Paris,  1665,  i,  502.  Cited  by  Thilo,  p.  xxxvii, 
and  by  Victor  Smith,  Romania,  ii,  474,  who  adds :  “  Parmi 
les  manuscrits  rapporte's  d’Ethiopie  par  M.  d’Abbadie,  il  se 
trouve  un  volume  dont  le  titre  a  pour  equivalent,  Actes  dela 
passion.  Un  chapitre  de  ce  volume,  intitule  Le  livre  ducoq, 
developpe  la  legende  indiquee  par  Thevenot.  Catalogue 
raisonne  des  manuscrits  ethiopiens,  appar tenant  h  M.  A.  T. 
d’Abbadie,  in  4°,  imp.  imperiale,  Paris,  1859.” 


22.  ST  STEPHEN  AND  HEROD 


241 


So  in  Vieux  Noels  fran<;ais,  in  Les  Noels 
Bressans,  etc.,  par  Philibert  Le  Due,  p.  145. 

Joie  des  Bestes 

&  la  nouvelle  de  la  naissance  du  Sauveur. 

Comme  les  Bestes  autrefois 
Parloient  mieux  latin  que  fraiujois, 

Le  Coq,  de  loin  voyant  le  faict, 

S’ecria  :  Christus  natus  est ; 

Le  Boeuf,  d’un  air  tout  ebaubi, 

Demande  :  Ubi,  ubi,  ubi  ? 

La  Chevre,  se  torchant  le  groin, 

Respond  que  e’est  a  Bethleem  ; 

Maistre  Baudet,  curiosus 
De  Taller  voir,  dit :  Bantus  ; 

Et,  droit  sur  ses  pattes,  le  Yeau 
Beugle  deux  fois  :  Volo,  volo.* 

And  again,  in  Italian,  Bolza,  Canzoni  popo- 
lari  comasche,  p.  654,  No  30 : 

II  Gallo,  i]  nato  Gesu  ! 

II  Bue.  In  dova? 

La  Pecora.  Betlem  !  Betlem  ! 

L’Asino.  Andem  !  Andem  !  Andem  ! 

A  little  Greek  ballad,  ‘  The  Taking  of  Con¬ 
stantinople,’  only  seven  lines  long,  relates  a 
miracle  entirely  like  that  of  the  cock,  which 
was  operated  for  the  conviction  of  incredulity. 
A  nun,  frying  fish,  hears  a  voice  from  above, 
saying,  Cease  your  frying,  the  city  will  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  Turks.  “  When  the  fish 
fly  out  of  the  pan  alive,”  she  says,  “  then  shall 


the  Turks  take  the  city.”  The  fish  fly  out  of 
the  pan  alive,  and  the  Turkish  admiraud  comes 
riding  into  the  city.  Zambelios,  p.  600,  No 
2 ;  Passow,  p.  147,  No  197.  (Liebrecht,  Volks- 
kunde,  p.  179.) 

With  Herod’s  questions  and  Stephen’s  an¬ 
swers  in  stanzas  5-8,  we  may  compare  a  pas¬ 
sage  in  some  of  the  Greek  ballads  cited  under 
No  17,  p.  199. 

% 

2k Xd/3e,  iravas’,  aKXafie,  Sit /'as;  /zr)  to  t/'wp.i  croxi  \ei7rei; 
2KXa/3e,  7ravas;  o’/<Xd/3e,  Su/'as;  a K\dfte,  xpaaiv  aov 

XeiVci ; 

Lakkyt  pe  eyper  mete  or  drynk  ? 

Mr/re  ttclvw,  yr/rc  Sit pu>,  p-rjTe.  xpwpX  [/epaaiv)  /xov  Xci7m. 
Lakit  me  neyper  mete  ne  drynk. 

Jeannaraki,  p.  203,  No  265  : 
Sakellarios,  p.  37,  No  13. 

2 KXdfie,  7T€ims ;  (7KXd/?e,  Sn/ias ;  <TK\a(3e,  poya  o’ou 
X€l7T€l  ; 

2 xXd^Se,  7rcivas ;  o-KXa/Ie,  Sn/ias  ;  cr/<Xd/3e  p.nv  poGya 

6e\ei<; ; 

Lakkyt  pe  eyper  gold  or  fe, 

Or  ony  ryche  wede  ? 

Oure  Treivu),  ovre  8l\I/u),  ovt€  poya  p.ov  XeiVei. 

Mr/re  Treii'a),  ptr/re  Sit /do,  p.rjre  xal  pouya  8iXo). 

Lakyt  me  neyper  gold  ne  fe, 

Ne  non  ryche  wede. 

Tommaseo,  hi,  154  ;  Passow,  p.  330,  No  449  : 
Tommaseo,  in,  152 ;  Zambelios,  p.  678,  No 
103  ;  Passow,  No  448. 

A  Danish  translation  of  the  English  bal¬ 
lad  is  printed  in  Dansk  Ivirketidende  for  1852, 
p.  254  (Grundtvig).  Danish  A  is  translated 
by  Dr  Prior,  i,  398. 


Sloane  MS.,  2593,  fol.  22  b,  British  Museum.' 

1  Seyvt  Steuene  was  a  clerk  in  kyng  Herowdes 

halle, 

And  seruyd  him  of  bred  and  clop,  as  euery 
kyng  befalle. 

2  Steuyn  out  of  kechone  cam,  wyth  boris  hed  on 

honde ; 

He  saw  a  sterre  was  fayr  and  bryjt  ouer  Bed- 
lem  stonde. 

*  “  Ce  couplet  se  de'bite  en  imitant  successivement  le  chant 
du  coq,  le  mugissement  du  boeuf,  le  cri  de  la  chevre,  le 

31 


3  He  kyst  adoun  pe  boris  hed  and  went  in  to 

pe  halle : 

‘  I  forsak  pe,  kyng  Herowdes,  and  pi  werkes 
alle. 

4  ‘  I  forsak  pe,  kyng  Herowdes,  and  pi  werkes 

alle ; 

K  is  a  chyldin  Bedlem  born  is  beter  pan 
we  alle.’ 

5  ‘  Q uat  eylyt  pe,  Steuene  ?  q uat  is  pe  befalle  ? 

braiment  de  l’ane,  et  le  beuglcment  du  veau.”  Bolza  makes 
a  similar  explanation  with  regard  to  the  Italian  colloquy. 


242 


23.  JUDAS 


Lakkyt  pe  ey per  mete  or  drynk  in  kyng  Her- 
owdes  h alle  ?  ’ 

6  ‘  Lakit  me  ney per  mete  ne  drynk  in  kywg  Her- 

owdes  halle  ; 

J>er  is  a  chyld  in  Bedlewt  born  is  beter  pa n  we 
alle.’ 

7  Q uat  eylyt  J)e,  Steuyn  ?  art  J>u  wod,  or  pu 

gywnyst  to  brede  ? 

Lakkyt  pe  eyper  gold  or  fe,  or  ony  ryche 
wede  ? ’ 

« 

8  ‘  Lakyt  me  ney per  gold  ne  fe,  ne  now  ryche 

wede  ; 

J>er  is  a  chyld  in  Bedlem  born  xal  helpyw  vs 
at  our  nede.’ 


9  1  fiat  is  al  so  sop,  Steuyw,  al  so  sop,  iwys, 

As  pis  capouw  crowe  xal  pat  lyp  here  in  myra 
dysh.’ 

10  p>at  word  was  not  so  sone  seyd,  pat  word  iw 

pat  halle, 

f)e  capouw  crew  Cristus  natws  est !  among  pe 
lordes  alle. 

11  Rysyt  vp,  myw  turmewtowres,  be  to  and  al  be 

on, 

And  ledyt  Steuyw  out  of  pis  town,  and  stowyt 
hy m  vryih  ston  !  ’ 

12  Tokyw  he  Steuene,  and  stonyd  kym  in  the 

way, 

And  perfore  is  his  euyw  on  Crystes  owy n  day. 


I2,  51.  be  falle.  91.  also  .  .  .  also  ...  I  wys.  92.  dych. 

31.  a  douw.  32,  41.  for  sak.  102.  a  mong. 

52.  There  is  room  only  for  the  h  at  the  end  of 
the  line. 


23 

JUDAS 


MS.  B.  14,  39,  of  the  thirteenth  century,  library  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  as  printed  in  Wright  &  Halli- 

well’s  Reliqui®  Antiqu®,  i,  144. 


This  legend,  which  has  not  been  heretofore 
recognized  as  a  ballad,  is,  so  far  as  is  known, 
unique  in  several  particulars.  The  common 
tradition  gives  Judas  an  extraordinary  domes¬ 
tic  history,*  but  does  not  endow  him  with  a 
sister  as  perfidious  as  himself.  Neither  is  his 
selling  his  Master  for  thirty  pieces  accounted 
for  elsewhere  as  it  is  here,  if  it  may  be  strictly 
said  to  be  accounted  for  here. 

A  popular  explanation,  founded  upon  John 
xii,  3-6,  and  current  for  six  centuries  and 

*  Legenda  Aurea,  Grasse,  2d  ed.,  p.  184  ff;  Mone’s  An- 
zeiger,  vii,  col.  532  f,  and  du  Merit,  Poesies  populaires  lat- 
ines  du  Moyen  Age,  p.  326  ff ;  Furnivall,  Early  English 


more,  is  that  Judas,  bearing  the  bag,  was  ac¬ 
customed  to  take  tithes  of  all  moneys  that 
came  into  his  hands,  and  that  he  considered 
he  had  lost  thirty  pence  on  the  precious  oint¬ 
ment  which  had  not  been  sold  for  three  hun¬ 
dred  pence,  and  took  this  way  of  indemnify¬ 
ing  himself. 

A  Wendish  ballad,  Haupt  und  Schmaler,  I, 
276,  No  284,  has  the  following  story.  Jesus 
besought  hospitality  for  himself  and  his  disci¬ 
ples  of  a  poor  widow.  She  could  give  a  lodg- 

Poems  and  Lives  of  Saints,  p.  107  ff;  Douhet,  Dictionnaire 
des  Legendes,  col.  714  ff ;  Das  alte  Passional,  ed.  K.  A.  Hahn, 
p.  312  ff;  Backstrom,  Svenska  Folkbocker,  ii,  198  ff ;  etc. 


23.  JUDAS 


243 


ing,  but  Lad  no  bread.  Jesus  said  he  would 
care  for  that,  and  asked  which  of  his  disciples 
would  go  and  buy  bread  for  thirty  pieces  of 
silver.  Judas  offered  himself  eagerly,  and 
went  to  the  Jews’  street  to  do  his  errand. 
Jews  were  gaming,  under  a  tub,  and  they  chal¬ 
lenged  Judas  to  play.  The  first  time  he  won 
the  stake,  and  the  second.  The  third  time  he 
lost  everything.  “  Why  so  sad,  Judas  ?  ”  they 
say :  “  go  sell  your  Master  for  thirty  pieces.” 
We  are  to  suppose  Judas  to  have  rejoined  his 
company.  Jesus  then  asks  who  has  sold  him. 
John  says,  Is  it  I?  and  Peter,  and  then  Judas, 
to  whom  Jesus  replies,  Thou  knowest  best. 
Judas,  in  remorse,  runs  to  hang  himself.  The 
Lord  bids  him  turn,  for  his  sin  is  forgiven. 
But  Judas  keeps  on  till  he  comes  to  a  fir : 
“  Soft  wood,  thou  fir,  thou  wilt  not  bear  me.” 
Further  on,  till  he  comes  to  an  aspen.  “  Hard 
wood,  thou  aspen,  thou  wilt  bear  me.”  So  he 
hanged  himself  on  the  aspen ;  and  still  the 
aspen  shakes  and  trembles  for  fear  of  the 
judgment  day. 

According  to  the  ballads,  then,  Judas  lost 
the  thirty  pieces  at  play,  or  was  robbed  of 
them,  with  collusion  of  his  sister.  But  his 
passionate  behavior  in  the  English  ballad,  st. 
9,  goes  beyond  all  apparent  occasion.  Surely 
it  was  not  for  his  tithe  of  the  thirty  pieces. 


And  why  does  he  insist  to  Pilate  on  the  very 
thirty  pieces  he  had  lost,  rejecting  every  other 
form  of  payment  ?  The  ballad-singer  might 
answer,  So  it  was,  and  rest  contented.  Or 
perhaps  he  might  have  heard,  and  might  tell 
us  by  way  of  comment,  that  these  pieces  had 
for  long  ages  been  destined  to  be  “  the  price  of 
him  that  was  valued,  whom  they  of  the  chil¬ 
dren  of  Israel  did  value ;  ”  had  been  coined  by 
Abraham’s  father  for  Ninus,  and  been  given 
by  Terah  to  his  son  ;  had  passed  through  va¬ 
rious  hands  to  the  Islimaelites,  had  been  paid 
by  them  as  the  price  of  Joseph,  and  been  re¬ 
paid  to  Joseph  by  his  brethren  for  corn  in 
Egypt ;  thence  were  transferred  to  Sheba,  and 
in  the  course  of  events  were  brought  by  the 
Queen  of  the  South  as  an  offering  to  Solo¬ 
mon’s  temple ;  when  the  temple  was  despoiled 
by  Nebuchadnezzar,  were  given  by  him  to  the 
king  of  Godolia,  and  after  the  kingdom  of 
Godolia  had  been  fused  in  that  of  Nubia,  were 
brought  as  his  tribute  to  the  infant  Jesus  by 
Melchior,  king  of  the  same,  etc.* 

It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  the  manu¬ 
script  from  which  *this  piece  was  taken  has 
been  for  some  years  lost  from  Trinity  College 
Library,  so  that  a  collation  of  Wright’s  text 
has  not  been  possible. 


1  Hit  wes  upon  a  Scere-thorsday  that  ure  loverd 

aros; 

Ful  milde  were  the  wordes  he  spec  to  Judas. 

2  ‘  Judas,  thou  most  to  Jurselem,  oure  mete  for 

to  bugge ; 

Thritti  platen  of  selver  thou  here  up  othirugge. 

3  ‘  Thou  comest  fer  ithe  brode  stret,  fer  ithe 

brode  strete ; 

Summe  of  thine  tunesmen  ther  thou  meiht 
imete.’ 

4  .  .  .  .  . 

Imette  wid  is  soster,  the  swikele  wimon. 


5  ‘  Judas,  thou  were  wrthe  me  stende  the  wid 

ston, 

For  the  false  prophete  that  tou  bilevest  upon.’ 

6  ‘  Be  stille,  leve  soster,  thin  lierte  the  tobreke ! 
Wiste  min  loverd  Crist,  ful  wel  he  wolde  be 

wreke.’ 

7  ‘  Judas,  go  thou  on  the  roc,  heie  upon  the 

ston ; 

Lei  thin  heved  imy  barm,  slep  thou  the 
anon.’ 

8  Sone  so  Judas  of  slepe  was  awake, 

Thritti  platen  of  selver  from  hym  weren  itake. 


*  See  Fabricius,  Codex  Pseudepigraphus  Veteris  Testa-  Pantheon,  Pistorius,  German.  Script.,  ed.  Struve,  ii,  243, 
menti,  ii,  79  ;  Godfrey  of  Viterbo  (who  derives  his  informa-  or  E.  du  Me'ril,  Podsies  pop.  latines  du  Moyen  Age,  p.  321  ; 
tion  from  a  lost  writing  of  the  apostle  Bartholomew)  in  his  Genesi  de  Scriptura,  Biblioteca  Catalana,  p.  20,  etc. 


244 


24.  BONNIE  ANNIE 


9  He  drou  hymselve  bi  the  cop,  that  al  it  lavede 
a  blode  ; 

The  Jewes  out  of  Jurselem  awenden  he  were 
wode. 

10  Foret  hym  com  the  riche  Jeu  that  heihte  Pi- 

latus  : 

‘  Wolte  sulle  thi  loverd,  that  hette  Jesus  ?’ 

11  ‘  I  nul  sulle  my  loverd  [for]  nones  cunnes 

eihte, 

Bote  hit  be  for  the  thritti  platen  that  he  me 
bitailite.’ 

12  ‘  Wolte  sulle  thi  lord  Crist  for  enes  cunnes 

golde  ?  ’ 

‘  Nay,  bote  hit  be  for  the  platen  that  he  habben 
wolde.’ 


13  In  him  com  ur  lord  Crist  gon,  as  is  postles 

seten  at  mete  : 

‘  Wou  sitte  ye,  postles,  ant  wi  nule  ye  ete  ? 

14  [‘Wou  sitte  ye,  postles,  ant  wi  nule  ye  ete  ?] 

Ic  am  ibouht  ant  isold  today  for  oure  mete.’ 

15  Up  stod  him  Judas  :  ‘  Lord,  am  I  that  .  .  .  ? 

‘  I  nas  never  othe  stude  ther  me  the  evel  spec.’ 

16  Up  him  stod  Peter,  and  spec  wid  al  is  mihte, 

17  ‘  Thau  Pilatus  him  come  wid  ten  hundred  . 

cnihtes, 

Yet  ic  wolde,  loverd,  for  thi  love  fihte.’ 

18  ‘  Still  thou  be,  Peter,  wel  I  the  icnowe  ; 

Thou  wolt  fursake  me  thrien  ar  the  coc  him 

crowe.’ 


Not  divided  into  stanzas  in  Reliquice  Antiquce. 
32.  meist. 

101.  heiste. 

II1.  eiste.  II2.  bitaiste.  • 

142.  i-boust. 

161.  miste. 


171.  cnistes.  172.  fiste. 

In  the  absence  of  the  original  manuscript ,  I  have 
thought  it  better  to  change  Wright's  s  in  the 
above  instances  (3—17)  to  h.  In  this  substitu¬ 
tion  I  follow  Mdtzner's  Altenglische  Sprachpro- 
ben ,  i,  114. 


24 

BONNIE  ANNIE 


A.  ‘Bonnie  Annie,’  Kinloch’s  Ancient  Scottish  Bal-  B.  ‘The  High  Banks  o  Yarrow,’  Motherwell’s  MS., 
lads,  p.  123.  p.  652. 


Had  an  old  copy  of  this  still  pretty  and 
touching,  but  much  disordered,  ballad  been 
saved,  we  should  perhaps  have  had  a  story 
like  this.  Bonnie  Annie,  having  stolen  her 
father’s  gold  and  her  mother’s  fee,  and  fled 
with  her  paramour  (like  the  maid  in  No  4), 
the  ship  in  which  she  is  sailing '  encounters  a 
storm  and  cannot  get  on.  Annie  is  seized 
with  the  pangs  of  travail,  and  deplores  the  ab¬ 


sence  of  women  (B  6,  7,  A  9, 10 ;  compare  No 
15,  21-26).  The  sailors  say  there  is  some¬ 
body  on  board  who  is  marked  for  death,  or  fly¬ 
ing  from  a  just  doom.  They  cast  lots,  and  the 
lot  falls  on  Annie,  —  a  result  which  strikes  us 
as  having  more  semblance  of  the  “  corrupted 
currents  of  this  world”  than  of  a  pure  judg¬ 
ment  of  God.  Annie,  conscious  only  of  her 
own  guilt,  asks  to  be  thrown  overboard.  Her 


24.  BONNIE  ANNIE 


245 


paramour  offers  great  sums  to  the  crew  to  save 
lier,  but  their  efforts  prove  useless,  and  Annie 
again  begs,  or  they  now  insist,  that  she  shall 
be  cast  into  the  sea  with  her  babe.  This  done, 
the  ship  is  able  to  sail  on ;  Annie  floats  to 
shore  and  is  buried  there. 

The  captain  of  the  ship  is  the  guilty  man 
in  A,  in  B  a  rich  squire.  A  may  exhibit  the 
original  plot,  but  it  is  just  as  likely  that  the 
captain  was  substituted  for  a  passenger,  un¬ 
der  the  influence  of  another  ballad,  in  which 
there  is  no  Annie,  but  a  ship-master  stained 
with  many  crimes,  whom  the  lot  points  out  as 
endangering  or  obstructing  the  vessel.  See 
‘  Brown  Robyn’s  Confession,’  further  on. 


If  the  narrative  in  Jonah,  i,  is  the  ultimate 
source  of  this  and  similar  stories,  it  must  be 
owned  that  the  tradition  has  maintained  its 
principal  traits  in  this  ballad  remarkably  well. 
Jonah  flies  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord  in  a 
ship ;  the  ship  is  overtaken  by  a  tempest ;  * 
the  sailors  cast  lots  to  know  who  is  the  guilty 
cause,  and  the  lot  falls  on  Jonah ;  he  bids 
the  sailors  take  him  up  and  cast  him  into  the 
sea;  nevertheless  the  men  row  hard  to  bring 
the  ship  to  land,  but  cannot  succeed  ;  they 
throw  Jonah  into  the  water,  and  the  storm 
ceases.f 

Translated  in  Grundtvig’s  Engelske  og 
skotske  Folkeviser,  p.  199,  No  31. 


A 

Kinloch’s  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  123. 

1  There  was  a  rich  lord,  and  he  lived  in  Forfar, 
He  had  a  fair  lady,  and  one  only  dochter. 

2  0  she  was  fair,  O  dear,  she  was  bonnie  ! 

A  ship’s  captain  courted  her  to  be  his  honey. 

3  There  cam  a  ship’s  captain  out  owre  the  sea 

sailing, 

He  courted  this  young  thing  till  he  got  her  wi 
bairn. 

4  ‘  Ye  ’ll  steal  your  father’s  gowd,  and  your 

mother’s  money, 

And  I  ’ll  mak  ye  a  lady  in  Ireland  bonnie.’ 

5  She ’s  stown  her  father’s  gowd,  and  her  moth¬ 

er’s  money, 

But  she  was  never  a  lady  in  Ireland  bonnie. 

*  *  *  *  # 

6  *  There ’s  fey  fowk  in  our  ship,  she  winna  sail 

for  me, 

There ’s  fey  fowk  in  our  ship,  she  winna  sail 
for  me.’ 


7  They ’ve  casten  black  bullets  twice  six  and 

forty, 

And  ae  the  black  bullet  fell  on  bonnie  An¬ 
nie. 

8  ‘  Ye  ’ll  tak  me  in  your  arms  twa,  lo,  lift  me 

cannie, 

Throw  me  out  owre  board,  your  ain  dear  An¬ 
nie.’ 

9  He  has  tane  her  in  his  arms  twa,  lo,  lifted  her 

cannie, 

He  has  laid  her  on  a  bed  of  down,  his  ain  dear 
Annie. 

10  ‘  What  can  a  woman  do,  love,  I  ’ll  do  for 

ye;’ 

‘  Muckle  can  a  woman  do,  ye  canna  do  for 
me.’ 

11  ‘  Lay  about,  steer  about,  lay  our  ship  cannie? 
Do  all  ye  can  to  save  my  dear  Annie.’ 

12  ‘  I ’ve  laid  about,  steerd  about,  laid  about  can¬ 

nie, 

But  all  I  can  do,  she  winna  sail  for  me. 


*  Jonah  is  asleep  below.  This  trait  we  find  in  several  the  boy,  too),  for,  they  say,  as  long  as  it  shall  be  with  us, 
Norse  ballads  :  see  *  Brown  Robyn’s  Confession.’  this  thumping  will  not  cease.  They  presently  see  a  hill,  and 

t  A  singular  episode  in  the  life  of  Saint  Mary  Magdalen  think  it  better  to  put  off  the  corpse,  and  the  boy,  there,  than 

in  the  Golden  Legend,  Grasse,  c.  xcvi,  2,  p.  409  ff,  indicates  that  these  should  be  devoured  by  sea-monsters.  Fear  will 

a  belief  that  even  a  dead  body  might  prejudice  the  safety  of  fasten  upon  anything  in  such  a  case. 

a  ship.  The  princess  of  Marseilles,  in  the  course  of  a  storm,  The  Digby  Mystery  of  Mary  Magdalene  has  this  scene, 

has  given  birth  to  a  boy  and  expired.  The  sailors  demand  at  p.  122  of  the  New  Shakspere  Society  edition,  ed.  Furni- 
that  the  body  shall  be  thrown  into  the  sea  (and  apparently  vail. 


246 


24.  BONNIE  ANNIE 


13  4  Ye  ’ll  tak  her  in  your  arms  twa,  lo,  lift  her 

cannie, 

And  throw  her  out  owre  board,  your  ain  dear 
Annie.’ 

14  He  has  tane  her  in  his  arms  twa,  lo,  lifted  her 

cannie, 

He  has  thrown  her  out  owre  hoard,  his  ain  dear 
Annie. 


15  As  the  ship  sailed,  honnie  Annie  she  swam, 
And  she  was  at  Ireland  as  soon  as  them. 

16  He  made  his  love  a  coffin  of  the  gowd  sae  yel¬ 

low, 

And  buried  his  bonnie  love  doun  in  a  sea  val¬ 
ley. 


B 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  652.  From  the  singing  of  a  boy, 
Henry  French,  Ayr. 

1  Down  in  Dumbarton  there  wonnd  a  rich  mer¬ 

chant, 

Down  in  Dumbarton  there  wond  a  rich  mer¬ 
chant, 

And  he  had  nae  family  but  ae  only  dochter. 
Sing  fal  lal  de  deedle,  fal  lal  de  deedle  lair, 
0  a  day 

2  There  cam  a  rich  squire,  intending  to  woo 

her, 

He  wooed  her  until  he  had  got  her  wi  babie. 

3  4  Oh  what  shall  I  do !  oh  what  shall  come  o 

me ! 

Baith  father  and  mither  will  think  naething  o 
me.’ 

4  ‘  Gae  up  to  your  father,  bring  down  gowd  and 

money, 

And  I  ’ll  take  ye  ower  to  a  braw  Irish  la- 
die.’ 

5  She  gade  to  her  father,  brought  down  gowd 

and  money, 

And  she ’s  awa  ower  to  a  braw  Irish  ladie. 

6  She  hadna  sailed  far  till  the  young  thing  cried 

4  Women !  ’ 

4  What  women  can  do,  my  dear,  I  ’ll  do  for 
you.’ 

7  4  O  haud  your  tongue,  foolish  man,  dinna  talk 

vainly, 

For  ye  never  kent  what  a  woman  driet  for 
you. 


8  4  Gae  wash  your  hands  in  the  cauld  spring 

water, 

And  dry  them  on  a  towel  a’  giltit  wi  silver. 

9  4  And  tak  me  by  the  middle,  and  lift  me  up 

saftlie, 

And  throw  me  ower  shipboard,  baith  me  and 
my  babie.’ 

10  He  took  her  by  the  middle,  and  lifted  her 

saftly, 

And  threw  her  ower  shipboard,  baith  her  and 
her  babie. 

11  Sometimes  she  did  sink,  sometimes  she  did 

float  it, 

Until  that  she  cam  to  the  high  banks  o  Yarrow. 

12  4  O  captain  tak  gowd,  O  sailors  tak  money, 

And  launch  out  your  sma  boat  till  I  sail  for  my 

honey.’ 

13  4  How  can  I  tak  gowd,  how  can  I  tak  money  ? 
My  ship ’s  on  a  sand  bank,  she  winna  sail  for 

me.’ 

14  The  captain  took  gowd,  the  sailors  took  money, 
And  they  launchd  out  their  sma  boat  till  he 

sailed  for  his  honey. 

15  4  Mak  my  love  a  coffin  o  the  gowd  sae  yellow, 
Whar  the  wood  it  is  dear,  and  the  planks  they 

are  narrow, 

And  bury  my  love  on  the  high  banks  o  Yar¬ 
row.’ 

16  They  made  her  a  coffin  o  the  gowd  sae  yellow, 
And  buried  her  deep  on  the  high  banks  o  Yar¬ 
row. 


25.  WILLIE’S  LYKE-WAKE  247 


A.  Printed  by  K inloch  in  four-line  stanzas. 

161.  coffin  off  the  Goats  of  Yerrow. 

B.  16.  Motherwell ,  Minstrelsy ,  p.  xcix,  146,  gives 
the  stanza  thus  : 

They  made  his  love  a  coffin  of  the  gowd  sae 
yellow, 


They  made  his  love  a  coffin  of  the  gowd 
sae  yellow, 

And  they  buried  her  deep  on  the  high 
banks  of  Yarrow. 

Sing  fal  lal,  de  deedle,  fal  lal,  de  deedle 
lair,  Oh  a  Day  ! 


25 

WILLIE’S  LYKE-WAKE 

A.  ‘  Willie,  Willie,’  Kinloch’s  MSS,  I,  53.  C.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  187. 

B.  a.  ‘  Blue  Flowers  and  Yellow,’  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  D.  *  Amang  the  blue  flowers  and  yellow,’  Motherwell’s 
the  North  of  Scotland,  i,  185.  b.  ‘  The  Blue  Flow-  Minstrelsy,  Appendix,  p.  xix,  No  xvn,  one  stanza, 
ers  and  the  Yellow,’  Christie,  Traditional  Ballad 

Airs,  i,  120. 


This  piece  was  first  printed  by  Buchan,  in 
1828,  and  all  the  copies  which  have  been  re¬ 
covered  are  of  about  that  date.  The  device 
of  a  lover’s  feigning  death  as  a  means  of  win¬ 
ning  a  shy  mistress  enjoys  a  considerable  pop¬ 
ularity  in  European  ballads.  Even  more  fa¬ 
vorite  is  a  ballad  in  which  the  woman  adopts 
this  expedient,  in  order  to  escape  from  the  con¬ 
trol  of  her  relations  :  see  ‘  The  Gay  Goshawk,’ 
with  which  will  be  given  another  form  of  the 
present  story. 

A  Danish  ballad  answering  to  our  Feigned 
Lyke-Wake  is  preserved,  as  I  am  informed 
by  Professor  Grundtvig,  in  no  less  than  four¬ 
teen  manuscripts,  some  of  them  of  the  16th 
century,  and  is  still  living  in  tradition.  Five 
versions,  as  yet  un printed,  A-E,  have  been 
furnished  me  by  the  editor  of  the  Ballads  of 
Denmark. 

A,  from  a  manuscript  of  the  sixteenth  cen¬ 
tury.  Young  Herre  Karl  asks  his  mother’s 
rede  how  he  may  get  the  maid  his  heart  is 
set  upon.  She  advises  him  to  feign  sickness, 
and  be  laid  on  his  bier,  no  one  to  know  his 


counsel  but  the  page  who  is  to  do  his  errands. 
The  page  bids  the  lady  to  the  wake  that  night. 
Little  Kirstin  asks  her  mother’s  leave  to  keep 
wake  over  Karl.  The  wake  is  to  be  in  the 
upper  room  of  Karl’s  house.  The  mother  says, 
Be  on  your  guard ;  he  means  to  cheat  you ; 
but  Kirstin,  neither  listening  to  her  mother 
nor  asking  her  father,  goes  to  keep  wake  in 
the  upper  room.  When  she  went  in  she  could 
not  see  the  lights  for  her  tears.  She  begged 
all  the  good  people  to  pray  for  Karl’s  soul,  sat 
down  by  his  head  and  made  her  own  prayer, 
and  murmured,  While  thou  livedst  I  loved 
thee.  She  lifted  the  cloths,  and  there  lay  Karl 
wide  awake  and  laughing.  “  All  the  devils  in 
hell  receive  thy  soul !  ”  she  cried.  “  If  thou 
livedst  a  hundred  years,  thou  shouldst  never 
have  my  good  will !  ”  Karl  proposed  that  she 
should  pass  the  night  with  him.  “  Why  would 
you  deceive  me  !  ”  Kirstin  exclaimed.  “  Why 
did  you  not  go  to  my  father  and  betroth  me 
honorably?”  Karl  immediately  rode  to  her 
father’s  to  do  this,  and  they  wei*e  married. 

B.  a,  from  MSS  of  1610  and  later,  almost 


248 


25.  WILLIE’S  LYKE-WAKE 


identical  with  b,  ‘  Den  forstilte  Vaagestue,’ 
Levninger,  Part  n,  1784,  p.  34,  No  7.*  This 
version  gives  us  some  rather  unnecessary  pre¬ 
vious  history.  Karl  has  sued  for  Ingerlille 
three  years,  and  had  an  ill  answer.  He  fol¬ 
lows  her  to  church  one  fine  day,  and,  after 
mass,  squeezes  her  fingers  and  asks,  Will  you 
take  pity  on  me  ?  She  replies,  You  must  ask 
my  father  and  friends  ;  and  he,  I  have,  and 
can  get  no  good  answer.  If  you  will  give 
me  your  troth,  we  can  see  to  that  best  our¬ 
selves.  “  Never,”  she  says.  “  Farewell,  then  ; 
but  Christ  may  change  your  mind.”  Karl 
meets  his  mother  on  his  way  from  church, 
who  asks  why  he  is  so  pale.  He  tells  her 
his  plight,  and  is  advised,  as  before,  to  use 
craft.  The  wake  is  held  on  Karl’s  premises.! 
Ingerlille,  in  scarlet  mantle,  goes  with  her 
maids.  She  avows  her  love,  but  adds  that  it 
was  a  fixed  idea  in  her  mind  that  he  would 
deceive  her.  She  lifts  up  the  white  cloth  that 
covers  the  face.  Karl  laughs,  and  says,  We 
were  good  friends  before,  so  are  we  still.  Bear 
out  the  bier,  and  follow  me  to  bed  with  the 
fair  maid.  She  hopes  he  will  have  respect 
for  her  honor.  Karl  reassures  her,  leaves  her 
with  his  mother,  rides  to  Ingerlille’s  house, 
obtains  her  parents’  approbation,  and  buys 
wine  for  his  wedding. 

C,  from  manuscripts  of  the  sixteenth  cen¬ 
tury.  Karl  is  given  out  for  dead,  and  his 
pages  ride  to  the  convent  to  ask  that  his  body 
may  be  laid  in  the  cloister.  The  bier  is  borne 
in;  the  prioress  comes  to  meet  it,  with  much 
respect.  The  pages  go  about  bidding  maids 
to  the  wake.  Ellin  asks  her  mother  if  she 
may  go.  (This  looks  as  if  there  had  origi¬ 
nally  been  no  convent  in  the  ballad.)  Her 
mother  tells  her  to  put  on  red  gold  and  be 
wary  of  Karl,  he  is  so  very  tricky.  When 
Ellin  owns  her  attachment,  Karl  whispers 
softly,  Do  not  weep,  but  follow  me.  Horses 
were  ready  at  the  portal  —  black  horses  all ! 

*  But  a  has  two  stanzas  more :  the  first  a  stev-stamme, 
or  lyrical  introduction  (see  p.  7),  the  other,  31,  nearly  a  rep¬ 
etition  of  Sandvig’s  29. 

t  After  the  page  has  bidden  Ingerlille  to  the  wake,  we  are 
told,  a  27,  28,  b  26,  27  :  all  the  convent  bells  were  going, 


Karl  sprang  from  the  bier,  took  Ellin,  and 
made  for  the  door.  The  nuns,  who  stood  read¬ 
ing  in  the  choir,  thought  it  was  an  angel  that 
had  translated  her,  and  wished  one  would 
come  for  them.  Karl,  with  fifteen  men  who 
were  in  waiting,  carried  Ellin  home,  and  drank 
his  bridal  with  her. 

D,  from  recent  oral  tradition.  As  Karl  lay 
in  his  bed,  he  said,  How  shall  I  get  the  fair 
maid  out  of  the  convent  ?  His  foster-mother 
heard  him,  and  recommended  him  to  feign 
death  and  bid  the  fair  maid  to  his  wake.  The 
maid  asked  her  father’s  leave  to  go,  but  he 
said,  Nay,  the  moment  you  are  inside  the  door 
he  will  seize  you  by  the  foot.  But  when  the 
page,  who  had  first  come  in  blue,  comes  back 
in  scarlet,  she  goes.  She  stands  at  Karl’s  head 
and  says,  I  never  shall  forget  thee  ;  at  his  feet, 
“  I  wished  thee  well ;  ”  at  his  side,  “  Thou 
wast  my  dearest.”  Then  she  turns  and  bids 
everybody  good-night,  but  Karl  seizes  her, 
and  calls  to  his  friends  to  come  drink  his 
bridal.  We  hear  nothing  of  the  convent  after 
the  first  stanza. 

E,  from  oral  tradition  of  another  quarter. 
Karl  consults  his  mother  how  he  shall  get  lit¬ 
tle  Kirstin  out  of  the  convent,  and  receives 
the  same  counsel.  A  page  is  sent  to  the  con¬ 
vent,  and  asks  who  will  come  to  the  wake 
now  Herr  Karl  is  dead  ?  Little  Kirstin,  with¬ 
out  application  to  the  prioress,  goes  to  her 
mother,  who  does  not  forbid  her,  but  warns 
her  that  Karl  will  capture  her  as  sure  as  she 
goes  into  the  room. 

The  maid  has  the  door  by  the  handle, 

And  is  wishing  them  all  good-night ; 

Young  Karl,  that  lay  a  corpse  on  the  bier, 
Sprang  up  and  held  her  tight. 

‘  Why  here ’s  a  board  and  benches, 

And  there ’s  no  dead  body  here  ; 

This  eve  I  ’ll  drink  my  mead  and  wine, 

All  with  my  Kirstin  dear. 

and  the  tidings  spreading  that  the  knight  was  dead  ;  all  the 
ladies  of  the  convent  sat  sewing,  except  Ingerlille,  who  wept. 
But  Ingerlille,  in  the  next  stanza,  puts  on  her  scarlet  cloak 
and  goes  to  the  hojeloft  to  see  her  father  and  mother.  The 
two  stanzas  quoted  signify  nothing  in  this  version. 


25.  WILLIE’S  LYKE-WAKE 


249 


‘  Why  here ’s  a  board  and  beds  too, 

And  here  there ’s  nobody  dead ; 

To-morrow  will  I  go  to  the  priest, 

All  with  my  plighted  maid.’ 

P,  another  copy  from  recent  tradition,  was 
published  in  1875,  in  Kristensen’s  Jyske 
Folkeviser,  n,  213,  No  62,  ‘  Vaagestuen.’ 
There  is  no  word  of  a  convent  here.  The  story 
is  made  very  short.  Kirsten’s  mother  says 
she  will  be  fooled  if  she  goes  to  the  wake. 
The  last  stanza,  departing  from  all  other  copies, 
says  that  when  Kirst^p  woke  in  the  morning 
Karl  was  off. 

G.  ‘  Klosterranet,’  Levninger,  i,  23,  No  4 
(1780),  Danske  Viser,  iy,  261,  No  212,  a  very 
second-rate  ballad,  may  have  the  praise  of 
preserving  consistency  and  conventual  dis¬ 
cipline.  The  young  lady  does  not  slip  out  to 
see  her  mother  without  leave  asked  and  had. 
It  is  my  persuasion  that  the  convent,  with  its 
little  jest  about  the  poor  nuns,  is  a  later  in¬ 
vention,  and  that  C  is  a  blending  of  two  dif¬ 
ferent  stories.  In  G,  Herr  Morten  betroths 
Proud  Adeluds,  who  is  more  virtuous  than 
rich.  His  friends  object ;  her  friends  do  not 
want  spirit,  and  swear  that  she  shall  never  be 
his.  Morten’s  father  sends,  him  out  of  the 
country,  and  Adeluds  is  put  into  a  convent. 
After  nine  years  Morten  returns,  and,  having 
rejected  an  advantageous  match  proposed  by 
his  father,  advises  with  his  brother,  Herr  Ni- 
laus,  how  to  get  his  true  love  out  of  the  clois¬ 
ter.  The  brother’s  plan  is  that  of  the  mother 
and  foster-mother  in  the  other  versions.  Herr 
Nilaus  promises  a  rich  gift  if  Morten’s  body 
may  be  buried  within  the  cloister.  From  this 
point  the  story  is  materially  the  same  as  in  C. 

H.  A  copy,  which  I  have  not  yet  seen, 
in  Rahbek’s  Lsesning  i  blandede  iEmner  (or 
Hesperus),  m,  151,  1822  (Bergstrom). 

‘  Hertugen  af  Skage,’  Danske  Viser,  n,  191, 
No  88,  has  this  slight  agreement  with  the  fore¬ 
going  ballads.  Voldemar,  the  king’s  youngest 
son,  hearing  that  the  duke  has  a  daughter, 
Hildegerd,  that  surpasses  all  maids,  seeks  her 
out  in  a  convent  in  which  she  has  taken  refuge, 
and  gets  a  cold  reception.  He  feigns  death, 

32 


desiring  that  his  bones  may  repose  in  the 
cloister.  His  bier  is  carried  into  the  convent 
church.  Hildegerd  lights  nine  candles  for 
him,  and  expresses  compassion  for  his  early 
death.  While  she  is  standing  before  the  altar 
of  the  Virgin,  Voldemar  carries  her  out  of  the 
church  by  force. 

This,  says  Afzelius,  1814,  is  one  of  the  com¬ 
monest  ballads  in  Sweden,  and  is  often  rep¬ 
resented  as  a  drama  by  young -people  in  coun¬ 
try  places.  A  a,  ‘  Herr  Carl,  eller  Klosterrof- 
vet,’  Afzelius,  I,  179,  No  26,  new  ed.  No  24  ; 
b,  Afzelius,  Sago-Hafder,  ed.  1851,  iv,  106. 
B.  Atterbom,  Poetisk  Kalender  for  1816,  p. 
63,  ‘  Det  lefvande  Liket.’  C.  Rancken,  Nagra 
Prof  af  Folksang,  o.  s.  v.,  p.  13,  No  4.  These 
differ  but  slightly  from  Danish  D,  E.  All 
three  conclude  with  the  humorous  verses  about 
the  nuns,  which  in  Rancken’s  copy  take  this 
rollicking  turn  : 

And  all  the  nuns  in  the  convent  they  all  danced  in 
a  ring ; 

‘  Christ  send  another  such  angel,  to  take  us  all  under 
his  wing !  ’ 

And  all  the  nuns  in  the  convent,  they  all  danced 
each  her  lone ; 

‘  Christ  send  another  such  angel,  to  take  us  off  every 
one !  ’ 

Bergstrom,  new  Afzelius,  II,  131,  refers  to 
another  version  in  Gyllenmars’  visbok,  p.  191, 
and  to  a  good  copy  obtained  by  himself. 

An  Icelandic  version  for  the  17th  century, 
which  is  after  the  fashion  of  Danish  C,  G,  is 
given  in  Islenzk  FornkvaeSi,  n,  59,  No  40, 
‘  Marteins  kviSa.’  The  lover  has  in  all  three 
a  troop  of  armed  men  in  waiting  outside  of  the 
convent. 

Professor  Bugge  has  obtained  a  version  in 
Norway,  which,  however,  is  as  to  language 
essentially  Danish.  (Bergstrom,  as  above.) 

There  is  a  very  gay  and  pretty  south-Eu- 
ropean  ballad,  in  which  the  artifice  of  feigning 
death  is  successfully  tried  by  a  lover  after  the 
failure  of  other  measures. 

A.  Magyar.  Arany  and  Gyulai,  I,  172, 
No  18,  ‘  Pdlbeli  Sz£p  Antal ;  ’  translated  by 


250 


25.  WILLIE’S  LYKE-WAKE 


Aigner,  Ungarische  Volksdichtungen,  p.  80, 
‘  Schon  Anton.’  Handsome  Tony  tells  his 
mother  that  he  shall  die  for  Helen.  The 
mother  says,  Not  yet.  I  will  build  a  mar¬ 
vellous  mill.  The  first  wheel  shall  grind  out 
pearls,  the  middle  stone  discharge  kisses,  the 
third  wheel  distribute  small  change.  The 
pretty  maids  will  come  to  see,  and  Helen 
among  them.  Helen  asks  her  mother’s  leave 
to  see  the  mill.  “  Go  not,”  the  mother  replies. 
“  They  are  throwing  the  net,  and  a  fox  will 
be  caught.”  Tony  again  says  he  must  die. 
His  mother  says,  not  yet ;  for  she  will  build 
an  iron  bridge ;  the  girls  will  come  to  see  it, 
and  Helen  among  them.  Helen  asks  to  see 
the  bridge ;  her  mother  answers  as  before. 
Tony  says  once  more  that  he  shall  die  for 
Helen.  His  mother  again  rejoins,  Not  yet. 
Make  believe  to  be  dead  ;  the  girls  will  come 
to  see  you,  and  Helen  among  them.  Helen 
entreats  to  be  allowed  to  go  to  see  the  hand¬ 
some  young  man  that  has  died.  Her  mother 
tells  her  she  will  never  come  back.  Tony’s 
mother  calls  to  him  to  get  up ;  the  girl  he  was 
dying  for  is  even  now  before  the  gate,  in  the 
court,  standing  at  his  feet.  “  Never,”  says 
Helen,  “  saw  I  so  handsome  a  dead  man,  — 
eyes  smiling,  mouth  tempting  kisses,  and  his 
feet  all  ready  for  a  spring.”  Up  he  jumped 
and  embraced  her. 

B.  Italian.  Ferraro,  Canti  popolari  mon- 
ferrini,  p.  59,  No  40,  ‘  II  Genovese.’  The 
Genoese,  not  obtaining  the  beautiful  daughter 
of  a  rich  merchant  on  demand,  plants  a  gar¬ 
den.  All  the  girls  come  for  flowers,  except 
the  one  desired.  He  then  gives  a  ball,  with 
thirty -two  musicians.  All  the  girls  are  there, 
but  not  the  merchant’s  daughter.  He  then 
builds  a  church,  very  richly  adorned.  All  the 
girls  come  to  mass,  all  but  one.  Next  he  sets 


the  bells  a  ringing,  in  token  of  his  death.  The 
fair  one  goes  to  the  window  to  ask  who  is 
dead.  The  good  people  (“  ra  bun-ha  gent,” 
in  the  Danish  ballad  “  det  gode  folk  ”)  tell 
her  that  it  is  her  first  love,  and  suggest  that 
she  should  attend  the  funeral.  She  asks  her 
father,  who  consents  if  she  will  not  cry.  As 
she  was  leaving  the  church,  the  lover  came  to 
life,  and  called  to  the  priests  and  friars  to  stop 
singing.  They  went  to  the  high  altar  to  be 
married. 

C.  Slovenian.  Vraz,  Narodne  pesni  ilirske, 
p.  93,  ‘  Cudna  bolezen  ’  (‘  Strange  Sickness  ’)  ; 
translated  by  Anastasius  Griin,  Yolkslieder 
aus  Krain,  p.  36,  ‘  Der  Scheintodte.’  “  Build 
a  church,  mother,”  cries  the  love-sick  youth, 
“  that  all  who  will  may  hear  mass  ;  perhaps 
my  love  among  them.”  The  mother  built  a 
church,  one  and  another  came,  but  not  his 
love.  “  Dig  a  well,  mother,  that  those  who 
will  may  fetch  water  ;  perhaps  my  love  among 
them.”  The  well  was  dug,  one  and  another 
came  for  water,  but  not  his  love.  “  Say  I  am 
dead,  mother,  that  those  who  will  may  come 
to  pray.”  Those  who  wished  came,  his  love 
first  of  all.  The  youth  was  peeping  through 
the  window.  “  What  kind  of  dead  man  is 
this,  that  stretches  his  arms  for  an  embrace, 
and  puts  out  his  mouth  for  a  kiss  ?” 

Danish  G  translated  by  the  Rev.  J.  John¬ 
stone,  ‘  The  Robbery  of  the  Nunnery,  or, 
The  Abbess  Outwitted,’  Copenhagen,  1786 
(Danske  Viser,  IV,  366)  ;  by  Prior,  in,  400. 
Swedish  A,  by  G.  Stephens,  For.  Quar.  Rev., 
1841,  xxvi,  49,  and  by  the  Howitts,  Lit.  and 
Rom.  of  Northern  Europe,  i,  292.  English 
C,  by  Rosa  Warrens,  Schottische  V.  1.,  p.  144, 
No  33. 


A 

Kinloch’s  MSS,  i,  53,  from  the  recitation  of  Mary  Barr, 
Lesmahagow,  aged  upwards  of  seventy.  May,  1827. 

1  ‘  Willie,  Willie,  1 11  learn  you  a  wile/ 

And  the  sun  shines  over  the  valleys  and  a’ 


‘  How  this  pretty  fair  maid  ye  may  beguile.’ 
Amang  the  blue  flowrs  and  the  yellow 
and  a’ 

2  ‘Ye  maun  lie  doun  just  as  ye  were  dead, 

And  tak  your  winding-sheet  around  your  head. 


25.  WILLIE’S  LYKE-WAKE 


251 


3  ‘Ye  maun  gie  the  bellman  his  bell-groat, 

To  ring  your  dead-bell  at  your  lover’s  yett.’ 

4  He  lay  doun  just  as  he  war  dead, 

And  took  his  winding-sheet  round  his  head. 

5  He  gied  the  bellman  his  bell-groat, 

To  ring  his  dead-bell  at  his  lover’s  yett. 

6  ‘  0  wha  is  this  that  is  dead,  I  hear  ?  * 

‘  0  wha  but  Willie  that  loed  ye  sae  dear.’ 

7  She  is  to  her  father’s  chamber  gone, 

And  on  her  knees  she ’s  fallen  down. 

8  ‘  O  father,  0  father,  ye  maun  grant  me 

this  ; 

I  hope  that  ye  will  na  tak  it  amiss. 

9  ‘  That  I  to  Willie’s  burial  should  go ; 

For  he  is  dead,  full  well  I  do  know.’ 


B 

a.  Buchan’s  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  i,  185.  b. 
Christie,  Traditional  Ballad  Airs,  i,  120. 

1  ‘  O  Willie  my  son,  what  makes  you  sae  sad  ?’ 

As  the  sun  shines  over  the  valley 
‘  I  lye  sarely  sick  for  the  love  of  a  maid.’ 
Amang  the  blue  flowers  and  the  yellow 

2  ‘  Were  she  an  heiress  or  lady  sae  free, 

That  she  will  take  no  pity  on  thee  ? 

3  ‘  O  Willie,  my  son,  I  ’ll  learn  you  a  wile, 

How  this  fair  maid  ye  may  beguile. 

4  ‘  Ye  ’ll  gie  the  principal  bellman  a  groat, 

And  ye  ’ll  gar  him  cry  your  dead  lyke-wake.’ 

5  Then  he  gae  the  principal  bellman  a  groat, 

He  bade  him  cry  his  dead  lyke-wake. 

6  This  maiden  she  stood  till  she  heard  it  a’, 

And  down  frae  her  cheeks  the  tears  did  fa. 

7  She  is  hame  to  her  father’s  ain  bower  : 

‘  I  ’ll  gang  to  yon  lyke-wake  ae  single  hour.’ 


10  ‘Ye  ’ll  tak  your  seven  bauld  brethren  wi  thee, 
And  to  Willie’s  burial  straucht  go  ye.’ 

11  It ’s  whan  she  cam  to  the  outmost  yett, 

She  made  the  silver  fly  round  for  his  sake. 

12  It ’s  whan  she  cam  to  the  inmost  yett, 

She  made  the  red  gowd  fly  round  for  his  sake. 

13  As  she  walked  frae  the  court  to  the  parlour 

there, 

The  pretty  corpse  syne  began  for  to  steer. 

14  He  took  her  by  the  waist  sae  neat  and  sae  sma, 
And  threw  her  atween  him  and  the  wa. 

15  ‘  O  Willie,  0  Willie,  let  me  alane  this  nicht, 

O  let  me  alane  till  we’re  wedded  richt.’ 

16  ‘  Ye  cam  unto  me  baith  sae  meek  and  mild, 
But  I  ’ll  mak  ye  gae  hame  a  wedded  wife  wi 

child.’ 


8  ‘Ye  must  take  with  you  your  ain  brither 

John; 

It ’s  not  meet  for  maidens  to  venture  alone.’ 

9  ‘  I  ’ll  not  take  with  me  my  brither  John, 

But  I  ’ll  gang  along,  myself  all  alone.’ 

10  When  she  came  to  young  Willie’s  yate, 

His  seven  brithers  were  standing  thereat. 

11  Then  they  did  conduct  her  into  the  ha, 

Amang  the  weepers  and  merry  mourners  a’. 

12  When  she  lifted  up  the  covering  sae  red, 

With  melancholy  countenance  to  look  on  the 

dead, 

13  He ’s  taen  her  in  his  arms,  laid  her  gainst  the 

wa, 

Says,  ‘  Lye  ye  here,  fair  maid,  till  day.’ 

14  ‘O  spare  me,  0  spare  me,  but  this  single 

night, 

And  let  me  gang  hame  a  maiden  sae  bright.’ 

15  ‘  Tho  all  your  kin  were  about  your  bower, 

Ye  shall  not  be  a  maiden  ae  single  hour. 


252 


25.  WILLIE’S  LYKE-WAKE 


16  ‘  Fair  maid,  ye  came  here  without  a  convoy, 
But  ye  shall  return  wi  a  horse  and  a  boy. 


17  ‘Ye  came  here  a  maiden  sae  mild, 

But  ye  shall  gae  hame  a  wedded  wife  with 
child.’ 


0 

Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  187. 

1  ‘  O  Willie,  Willie,  what  makes  thee  so  sad  ?  ’ 

And  the  sun  shines  over  the  valley 
‘  I  have  loved  a  lady  these  seven  years  and 
mair.’ 

Down  amang  the  blue  flowers  and  the  yel¬ 
low 

2  ‘  0  Willie,  lie  down  as  thou  were  dead, 

And  lay  thy  winding-sheet  down  at  thy  head. 

3  ‘  And  gie  to  the  bellman  a  belling-great, 

To  ring  the  dead-bell  at  thy  love’s  bower-yett.’ 

4  He  laid  him  down  as  he  were  dead, 

And  he  drew  the  winding-sheet  oer  his  head. 

5  He  gied  to  the  bellman  a  belling-great, 

To  ring  the  dead-bell  at  his  love’s  bower-yett. 

*  f  *  #  * 


K 

6  When  that  she  came  to  her  true  lover’s  gate, 
She  dealt  the  red  gold  and  all  for  his  sake. 

7  And  when  that  she  came  to  her  true  lover’s 

bower, 

She  had  not  been  there  for  the  space  of  half  an 
hour, 

8  Till  that  she  cam  to  her  true  lover’s  bed, 

And  she  lifted  the  winding-sheet  to  look  at  the 

dead. 

9  He  took  her  by  the  hand  so  meek  and  sma, 
And  he  cast  her  over  between  him  and  the  wa. 

10  ‘  Tho  all  your  friends  were  in  the  bower, 

1  would  not  let  you  go  for  the  space  of  half  an 
hour. 

11  ‘You  came  to  me  without  either  horse  or  hoy, 
But  I  will  send  you  home  with  a  merry  con¬ 
voy.’ 


Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  Appendix,  p.  xix,  No  xvii. 

‘  0  Johnie,  dear  Johnie,  what  makes  ye  sae 
sad  ?  ’ 

As  the  sun  shines  ower  the  valley 


‘  I  think  nae  music  will  mak  ye  glad.’ 
Amang  the  blue  flowers  and  the  yellow 


♦ 


B.  b  is  a  with  stanzas  3,  12-15  omitted,  and 
“  a  few  alterations,  some  of  them  given  from 
the  recitation  of  an  old  woman.”  “  Buchan’s 
version  differs  little  from  the  way  the  old 
woman  sang  the  ballad.”  The  old  woman's 
variations ,  so  far  as  adopted,  are  certainly  of 
the  most  trifling. 

I2.  I  am.  21.  Is  she.  71.  And  she. 

161.  Ye ’ve  come.  162.  And  ye. 


17.  Evidently  by  Christie : 

‘  Fair  maid,  I  love  thee  as  my  life, 

But  ye  shall  gae  hame  a  lovd  wedded  wife.’ 

C.  Burden.  The  lines  are  transposed  in  the  sec¬ 
ond  stanza,  but  are  given  in  the  third  in  the 
order  of  the  first. 

31,  51.  MS.  belling  great. 

II2.  you  come. 


26.  THE  THREE  RAVENS 


253 


26 

THE  THREE  RAYENS 

a.  Melismata.  Musicall  Phansies.  Fitting  the  Court,  b.  ‘  The  Three  Ravens,’  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy, 
Cittie,  and  Countrey  Humours.  London,  1611,  No  Appendix,  p.  xviii,  No  xn. 

20.*  [T.  Ravenscroft.] 


a  was  printed  from  Melismata,  by  Ritson, 
in  his  Ancient  Songs,  1790,  p.  155.  Mr.  Chap¬ 
pell  remarked,  about  1855,  Popular  Music  of 
the  Olden  Time,  I,  59,  that  this  ballad  was 
still  so  popular  in  some  parts  of  the  country 
that  he  had  “  been  favored  with  a  variety  of 
copies  of  it,  written  down  from  memory,  and 
all  differing  in  some  respects,  both  as  to  words 
and  tune,  but  with  sufficient  resemblance  to 
prove  a  similar  origin.”  Motherwell,  Min¬ 
strelsy,  Introduction,  p.  lxxvii,  note  49,  says 
he  had  met  with  several  copies  almost  the 
same  as  a.  b  is  the  first  stanza  of  one  of  these 
(traditional)  versions,  “  very  popular  in  Scot¬ 
land.” 

The  following  verses,  first  printed  in  the 
Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  and  known 
in  several  versions  in  Scotland,  are  treated  by 
Motherwell  and  others  as  a  traditionary  form 
of  ‘  The  Three  Ravens.’  They  are,  however, 
as  Scott  says,  “rather  a  counterpart  than  a 
copy  of  the  other,”  and  sound  something  like 
a  cynical  variation  of  the  tender  little  English 
ballad.  Dr  Rimbault  (Notes  and  Queries, 
Ser.  v,  m,  518)  speaks  of  unprinted  copies 
taken  down  by  Mr  Blaikie  and  by  Mr  Thomas 
Lyle  of  Airth. 

THE  TWA  CORBIES. 

a.  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  hi,  239,  ed.  1803, 
communicated  by  C.  K.  Sharpe,  as  written  down  from  tra¬ 
dition  by  a  lady.  b.  Albyn’s  Anthology,  ii,  27, 1818,  “  ftom 
the  singing  of  Mr  Thomas  Shortreed,  of  Jedburgh,  as  sung 
and  recited  by  his  mother.”  c.  Chambers’s  Scottish  Bal¬ 
lads,  p.  283,  partly  from  recitation  and  partly  from  the  Bor¬ 
der  Minstrelsy,  d.  Fraser-Tytler  MS.,  p.  70. 


1  As  I  was  walking  all  alane, 

I  heard  twa  corbies  making  a  mane ; 

The  tane  unto  the  t’other  say, 

‘  Where  sail  we  gang  and  dine  to-day  ?  ’ 

2  ‘  In  behint  yon  auld  fail  dyke, 

I  wot  there  lies  a  new  slain  knight ; 

And  naehody  kens  that  he  lies  there, 

But  his  hawk,  his  hound,  and  lady  fair. 

3  ‘  His  hound  is  to  the  hunting  gane, 

His  hawk  to  fetch  the  wild-fowl  hame, 

His  lady ’s  ta’en  another  mate, 

So  we  may  mak  our  dinner  sweet. 

4  ‘  Ye  ’ll  sit  on  his  white  hause-bane, 

And  I  ’ll  pike  out  his  bonny  blue  een  ; 

Wi  ae  lock  o  his  gowden  hair 

We  ’ll  theek  our  nest  when  it  grows  bare. 

5  ‘  Mony  a  one  for  him  makes  mane, 

But  nane  sail  ken  where  he  is  gane  ; 

Oer  his  white  banes,  when  they  are  hare, 

The  wind  sail  blaw  for  evermair.’ 

‘  The  Three  Ravens  ’  is  translated  by 
Grundtvig,  Engelske  og  skotske  Folkeviser, 
p.  145,  No  23  ;  by  Henrietta  Schubart,  p.  155 ; 
Gerhard,  p.  95  ;  Rosa  Warrens,  Schottische 
V.  1.  der  Vorzeit,  p.  198;  Wolff,  Halle  der 
Yolker,  I,  12,  Hausschatz,  p.  205. 

‘  The  Twa  Corbies’  (Scott),  by  Grundtvig, 
p.  143,  No  22;  Arndt,  p.  224;  Gerhard,  p. 
94  ;  Schubart,  p.  157 ;  Knortz,  L.  u.  R.  Alt- 
Englands,  p.  194;  Rosa  Warrens,  p.  89.  The 
three  first  stanzas,  a  little  freely  rendered  into 
four,  pass  for  Pushkin’s:  Works,  1855,  n, 
462,  xxiv. 


*  Misprinted  22. 


254 


2G.  THE  THREE  RAVENS 


1  There  were  three  rauens  sat  on  a  tree, 

Downe  a  downe,  hay  down,  hay  downe 
There  were  three  rauens  sat  on  a  tree, 

With  a  downe 

There  were  three  rauens  sat  on  a  tree, 

They  were  as  blacke  as  they  might  he. 

With  a  downe  derrie,  derrie,  derrie,  downe, 
downe 

2  The  one  of  them  said  to  his  mate, 

‘  Where  shall  we  our  breakefast  take  ?  ’ 

3  ‘  Downe  in  yonder  greene  field, 

There  lies  a  knight  slain  vnder  his  shield. 

4  *  His  hounds  they  lie  downe  at  his  feete, 

So  well  they  can  their  master  keepe. 


5  ‘  His  haukes  they  flie  so  eagerly, 

There ’s  no  fowle  dare  him  come  rue.’ 

6  Downe  there  comes  a  fallow  doe, 

As  great  with  yon g  as  she  might  goe. 

7  She  lift  vp  his  bloudy  hed, 

And  kist  his  wounds  that  were  so  red. 

8  She  got  him  vp  vpon  her  hacke, 

And  carried  him  to  earthen  lake. 

9  She  buried  him  before  the  prime, 

She  was  dead  herselfe  ere  euen-song  time. 

10  God  send  euery  gentleman, 

Such  haukes,  such  hounds,  and  such  a  leman. 


b.  Three  ravens  sat  upon  a  tree, 

Hey  down,  hey  derry  day 
Three  ravens  sat  upon  a  tree, 

Hey  down 

Three  ravens  sat  upon  a  tree, 

And  they  were  black  as  black  could  be. 
And  sing  lay  doo  and  la  doo  and  day 


Variations  of  The  Twa  Corbies. 

b.  1.  As  I  cam  by  yon  auld  house  end, 

I  saw  twa  corbies  sittin  thereon. 

21.  Whare  but  by  yon  new  fa’en  birk. 

3.  We  ’ll  sit  upon  his  bonny  breast-bane, 
And  we  ’ll  pick  out  his  bonny  gray 

een; 

We  ’ll  set  our  claws  intil  his  y allow 
hair, 

And  big  our  bowr,  it ’s  a’  blawn  bare. 

4.  My  mother  clekit  me  o  an  egg, 

And  brought  me  up  i  the  feathers  gray, 


And  bade  me  flee  whereer  I  wad, 

For  winter  wad  be  my  dying  day. 

5.  Now  winter  it  is  come  and  past, 

And  a’  the  birds  are  biggin  their 
nests, 

But  I  ’ll  flee  high  aboon  them  a’, 

And  sing  a  sang  for  summer’s  sake. 

c.  1.  As  I  gaed  doun  by  yon  hous-en, 

Twa  corbies  there  were  sittand  their 
lane. 

21.  0  down  beside  yon  new-faun  birk. 

31.  His  horse.  32.  His  hounds  to  bring  the 
wild  deer  hame. 

4.  O  we  ’ll  sit  on  his  bonnie  breist-bane, 
And  we’ll  pyke  out  his  bonnie  grey 
een. 

d.  I1.  walking  forth.  I2.  the  ither.  Is.  we  twa 
dine. 

32.  wild  bird. 

52.  naebody  kens. 

53.  when  we ’ve  laid  them  bare. 

may  blaw. 


54.  win 


27.  THE  WHUMMIL  BORE. 


255 


27 

THE  WHUMMIL  BORE 


a.  Motherwell’s  MS.,  p.  191.  b.  Motherwell’s  Minstrelsy,  Appendix,  p.  xvi,  No  hi. 


This  ballad,  if  it  ever  were  one,  seems  not 
to  have  been  met  with,  or  at  least  to  have 
been  thought  worth  notice,  by  anybody  but 
Motherwell.  As  already  observed  in  the 
preface  to  ‘  Hind  Horn,’  stanza  2  seems  to 
have  slipped  into  that  ballad,  in  consequence 
of  the  resemblance  of  stanza  1  to  F  2,  H  3  of 
‘  Hind  Horn.’  This  first  stanza  is,  however,  a 


commonplace  in  English  and  elsewhere :  e.  g., 
‘  The  Squire  of  Low  Degree  :  ’ 

He  served  the  kyng,  her  father  dere, 

Fully  the  tyme  of  seven  yere.  w  5,  6. 

He  loved  her  more  then  seven  yere, 

Yet  was  he  of  her  love  never  the  nere.  vv  17,  18. 

Ritson,  Met.  Rom.  in,  145  f. 


1  Seven  lang  years  I  hae  served  the  king, 

Fa  fa  fa  fa  lilly 

And  I  never  got  a  sight  of  his  daughter  but 
ane. 

With  my  glimpy,  glimpy,.  glimpy  eedle, 
Lillum  too  tee  a  ta  too  a  tee  a  ta  a  tally 

2  I  saw  her  thro  a  'whummil  bore, 

And  I  neer  got  a  sight  of  her  no  more. 


3  Twa  was  putting  on  her  gown, 

And  ten  was  putting  pins  therein. 

4  Twa  was  putting  on  her  shoon, 

And  twa  was  buckling  them  again. 

5  Five  was  combing  down  her  hair, 

And  I  never  got  a  sight  of  her  nae  mair. 

6  Her  neck  and  breast  was  like  the  snow, 
Then  from  the  bore  I  was  forced  to  go. 


a.  2s.  Variation  :  And  she  was  washing  in  a  pond. 
62.  Variation :  Ye  might  have  tied  me  with  a 
strae. 


b.  Burden  :  Fa,  fa,  falilly 

With  my  glimpy,  glimpy,  glimpy 
eedle, 

Lillum  too  a  tee  too  a  tally. 


256 


28.  BURD  ELLEN  AND  YOUNG  TAMLANE 


28 

BUED  ELLEN  AND  YOUNG  TAMLANE 

Maidment’s  North  Countrie  Garland,  1824,  p.  21.  Com-  her  childhood,”  about  sixty  years  before  the  above 
municated  by  R.  Pitcairn,  “from  the  recitation  of, a  date, 
female  relative,  who  had  heard  it  frequently  sung  in 


Motherwell  informs  us,  Minstrelsy,  p. 
xciv  of  Introduction,  note  to  141,  that  ‘  Burd 
Helen  and  Young  Tamlene  ’  is  very  popular, 
and  that  various  sets  of  it  are  to  be  found  tra¬ 
ditionally  current  (1827).  Still  1  have  not 


found  it,  out  of  Maidment’s  little  book ;  not 
even  in  Motherwell’s  large  folio. 

I  cannot  connect  this  fragment  with  what 
is  elsewhere  handed  down  concerning  Tarn- 
lane,  or  with  the  story  of  any  other  ballad. 


1  Burd  Ellen  sits  in  her  bower  window  e, 

With  a  double  laddy  double,  and  for  the 
double  dow 

Twisting  the  red  silk  and  the  blue. 

With  the  double  rose  and  the  May-hay 

2  And  whiles  she  twisted,  and  whiles  she  twan, 
And  whiles  the  tears  fell  down  amang. 


3  Till  once  there  by  cam  Young  Tamlane : 

‘  Come  light,  oh  light,  and  rock  your  young 
son.’ 

4  ‘  If  you  winna  rock  him,  you  may  let  him  rair, 
For  I  hae  rockit  my  share  and  mair.’ 

#  *  #  #  * 

5  Young  Tamlane  to  the  seas  he ’s  gane, 

And  a’  women’s  curse  in  his  company’s  gane. 


» 


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